Leaving Scars
by Constance1
Summary: Draco Malfoy returns after disappearing without a trace for eighteen months only to find that Harry has taken drastic measures to forget him. DM/HP. Slash. Complete... but will one day re-write the final chapter.
1. Learned to Live Half Alive

_**Leaving Scars**_

_**Summary**_**: **Draco Malfoy returns after disappearing without a trace for eighteen months, only to find that Harry has taken drastic measures to try to forget him. Draco/Harry.

_**Story Warnings**_**: **Slash of the NC-17 variety, angst, depression, drama, AU, touches of fluff, violence, some OW/HP. Liberties taken with the Obliviate spell.

**Chapter One: "Learn to Live Half Alive"**

A smile quirks the corners of Harry's lips as his sleep muddled mind slowly registers the soft touch of warm lips ghosting across the bare skin of his shoulder.

He keeps his eyes closed as said lips move delicately across his tingling skin, over his collar bone, and then slide up his throat to that deliciously sensitive spot just below his ear.

Emerald eyes open sluggishly and his sleepy smile widens as Draco's mischievous grey eyes meet his.

Harry's eyes fall shut again as though of their own free will. He eagerly tilts his head back, encouraging continued exploration from his lover.

Draco chuckles quietly, the sound vibrating against Harry's skin as the blonde's lips tenderly press against the pulse point of his throat.

Harry lets out a hushed moan, his hands coming up to tangle in the baby soft strands of Draco's hair.

"Draco..."

The Slytherin smiles and moves his wandering mouth back up to Harry's ear, warm breath tickling and raising gooseflesh in its wake.

"I love you Harry," he exhales quietly, the reverent words seeming to come from the depths of his soul.

Harry drags his eyes open and gazes into Draco's achingly honest expression. He smiles up at him and strokes the backs of his fingers down the side of Draco's smooth pale cheek.

Draco's eyes fall shut for an instant as he leans into the touch.

Harry's eyes flit over his lover's form; the sunlight pouring in from the window illuminating those pale blond strands of shining hair and perfect alabaster skin.

Harry smiles as he replies, "I love you too - always."

Draco smiles in response, grey eyes shining with adoration.

Harry's eyes fall shut once more as Draco slowly moves down his body, pausing to place tender kisses to his chest and hip bones, then inner thighs.

Harry lets out a hushed moan as Draco nuzzles at his groin for moment before swiping his warm tongue up the length of his erection.

Harry's moan is decidedly less hushed as those teasing lips finally envelope him fully. He arches off the bed as warm tongue and mouth taste and lick and suck in conjunction with a firm hand.

Harry tries to keep his body in check, to keep from thrusting wantonly into that warm wet mouth, but he is so close already, orgasm perilously close.

"You're mine Harry," Draco growls huskily, hand still fisting him firmly as he pauses to stare intently up at his lover's face; cheeks flushed and lips parted with arousal.

"Yes..." Harry gasps, thrusting shallowly, hips arching traitorously off of the mattress.

"Come for me Harry."

Harry thrusts a few more times before freezing, body arching off the bed as he cries out in ecstasy...

Harry opens his eyes, blinking in confusion as the muted grey light of early morning greets him.

He looks down to see the dark sheets twisted and damp beneath him, his own hand still wrapped around a spent and sticky cock.

His hand uncurls instantly from around his penis and the aching pain of reality settles in the pit of his stomach, dropping into his gut with the weight of a boulder.

He curls in on himself with a sob that breaks free from between pressed lips.

His bed and his arms are empty. His bleeding heart beats a loud rhythm in his ears as the loneliness returns so fast and strong that he feels sick.

"Harry?"

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, desperate to keep out the world, including his concerned boyfriend.

"Harry, love are you alright?" There's a dip in the mattress as he sits next to Harry's huddled body. "Did you have another nightmare?"

Harry unclenches his eyes, hoping that Oliver won't touch him. He doesn't want to be touched.

"Yeah, nightmare," he answers shakily, shifting away slightly. "I'm fine. I'll be out in a sec."

Oliver frowns, wishing that Harry would talk to him instead of always shutting him out. He touches Harry's trembling shoulder briefly before standing, oblivious to the flinch of the body beneath his hand.

Harry exhales in relief, glad that Oliver let it go so easily this time.

He slowly drops his legs over the side of the bed and forces himself to sit up, unconsciously wiping the cooled semen from his hand onto the sheet.

He sits there for a moment, staring unseeing at the dark carpeted floor.

That had been a particularly real dream. Sometimes he knew when he was dreaming, and his dream self would clutch onto Draco, desperate to keep him there, and other times... other times it felt so very real that it was a brutal shock to wake up to this cold reality.

He knew he wasn't being fair to Oliver, the man loved him and cared for him, yet Harry knew he could never truly love him in return, yet if it hadn't been for Oliver, Harry would have never emerged from the pit of despair that he'd dug himself into after Draco's death.

After isolating himself from his friends - and the world in general - for thirteen months, it took Oliver one month of convincing for Harry to go out with him, and then a further three months before he would allow Oliver to stay the night.

Harry sometimes revelled in the close contact of having a warm body to sleep against, but he wasn't ready for anything more than that. They kissed and touched and found their own way of gratifying each other but they never had sex.

Draco had been his first and last and only, and even though he was gone, Harry wasn't ready for anyone else to take his place.

Harry rubs his stinging eyes and stands. He makes his way to the bathroom and leans against the basin, staring at himself in the mirror.

Staring back at him are the ever present dark circles under his eyes, indicative of numerous sleepless nights. His skin is pale and dull, green eyes hollow and haunted.

He shakes his head and turns away.

He quickly splashes some cold water on his face before dressing in yesterday's clothes which were still in a heap on the tiled floor.

He wanders out to the kitchen, still trying to rid himself of the vestiges of that dream, Draco's image and voice still fresh in his mind.

"Feeling better?" Oliver inquires, handing him a hot mug of strong coffee.

"Yeah thanks," Harry accepts the blue mug gratefully, flashing his boyfriend a forced smile.

Oliver follows him to the table and sits down. "Was it... him?" he hedges, staring down at his own steaming mug and avoiding Harry's gaze.

Harry visibly stiffens, his hand clenching around his cup. "Yes," he answers tightly, praying that Oliver will leave it at that.

Oliver was the only one who knew of Harry's two year affair with Draco Malfoy. Harry had finally told him one night after much persuasion - and with the help of a bottle of tequila.

Harry had wanted Oliver to know the reasons behind his depression, why he was cold and closed off at times. It seemed only fair.

It was at times like this though that Harry deeply regretted having bared his soul, to have those painful memories brought up without his consent at any time.

Oliver nods, finally raising his eyes to meet Harry's steady gaze. "Well... I'll be at training all day if you need me," he finally offers quietly.

The tension in Harry's body eases slightly as Oliver abruptly leaves the table, taking his coffee to the sink and dumping it down the drain.

Harry sighs and follows Oliver to the door.

"Wait." He reaches out and grabs Oliver's hand. "I'm sorry."

Oliver turns and smiles tiredly. "Don't worry about it."

Harry feels swamped with guilt in that moment. Oliver Wood was good looking and a popular professional quidditch player, Harry had no idea as to why Oliver wanted to be with him. He deserved so much better. He deserved someone who could love him in return.

"Will you be here tonight?" Harry asks, holding onto the other man's hand.

"Do you want me to?" Oliver replies, eyes searching Harry's face.

Harry nods. "Yes. Please."

Oliver's expression relaxes as he replies. "Alright then, see you after work."

Harry closes his eyes as Oliver leans in to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"See you."

Harry collapses back against the wall as soon as Oliver closes the door behind him.

The silence of the small flat instantly surrounds him, suffocating him, thoughts and images of his dead lover running rampant. Draco's voice and whispers of love echoing in his ear, warm breath caressing his skin...

Harry quickly pushes off from the wall and grabs his cloak from the hall coat rack.

The cool autumn air hits his skin like a slap in the face. He strides purposefully along the footpath, hands tucked into his cloak pockets.

He barely registers his direction or the people passing by as he keeps walking, head down.

After thirty minutes of aimless fast-paced walking, he finally stops, panting slightly.

He feels marginally better, his head a little clearer.

He instantly apparates to Diagon Alley. From there he makes his way out into muggle London and to the Ministry of Magic.

He marches into his private Aurors office and kicks the door shut behind him.

His desk is strewn with papers and messy folders, as well as quite a few paper coffee cups, some still half full.

Harry throws his cloak onto the filing cabinet next to the door before collapsing into the creaky wooden chair behind his small desk.

He gazes blearily at the mess in front of him, overwhelmed at the amount of unfinished work staring back at him.

Ignoring everything and, as he has done so many times before, he opens his desk drawer and removes the well-worn copy of the Daily Prophet.

He leans back in his chair and studies the photo for the hundredth time, the huge print headline screaming out at him:

'Malfoy Manor Blown to Pieces: No Survivors.'

There it is in black and white: 'The Malfoy line comes to an end with the deaths of Lucius and Narcissa along with their young son Draco.'

Harry ignores the burning behind his eyes as the crinkled page before him suddenly blurs.

It didn't matter, he had committed the article to memory long ago.

'Last night was a huge leap forward for our cause as one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most well-known locations was destroyed. Malfoy Manor, one of the wizarding community's most established estates, was attacked in the midst of a suspected Death Eater meeting. The Ministry has confirmed that no one from our side was injured in the attack. The Manor has been completely destroyed, instantly killing all who were inside. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's demise has yet to be confirmed.

This is a huge blow to the Dark Side as many of his most prominent followers have now been put to rest. We can only hope that it will not be long before our world can return to normal. If the Dark Lord is still at large, this reporter only hopes that Harry Potter will not be long in vanquishing him from our midst and ending his reign of terror.'

Harry angrily swats the errant tears from his cheeks and suddenly the moving photo of Malfoy Manor comes into focus once more; the flames licking at the rubble and consuming the property in smoke. Nothing is left of the once magnificent home but the very foundation on which it once proudly stood upon.

Harry screws his eyes shut against the imagined sounds of screaming coming from within. His beautiful lover in agony...

Harry throws the paper across the room with a shout of anger and loss.

He buries his hands in his hair, pulling harshly at the thick dark strands as he closes his eyes.

His dream from last night was affecting him more than usual. He hadn't had such a realistic and achingly peaceful dream in such a long time. Mostly it was just the nightmares of Draco's death and Harry's inability to save him that haunted his scant sleeping hours. This dream had been so real, and Harry had never wanted to wake from that heavenly scene.

Harry lifts his head at the soft knock to his office door. "Yes?" he calls out tiredly.

The dark wood-paneled door opens a crack and a ginger head pokes through.

"Mr Weasley," Harry greets half-heartedly, not in the mood for any sort of company.

Mr Weasley smiles, but his expression is concerned. "You alright there Harry?"

Harry sighs and straightens in his chair, hands dropping back down to his desktop. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"I was just heading up to see you and I thought I heard shouting..."

"Yeah, uh... I'm just a little frustrated with one of my cases," Harry replies, eyes quickly scanning his desk for something familiar. Nothing holds any recognition he realizes with a start. He can't quite remember the last time he actually worked on what he was supposed to be doing.

Mr Weasley nods, still smiling warmly. "Why don't you go for a walk? Always helps me clear my head."

Harry brings his gaze back to Mr Weasley's face and he nods distractedly. "Yeah... I think I might do that."

"Good." Ron's father looks satisfied.

Harry forces a smile as he stands and retrieves his cloak from where he'd half-hazardly thrown it earlier.

"I'll see you later," Harry says, brushing past.

Mr Weasley watches him leave, his smile fading. Ron was concerned for his best friend, the whole family was. Harry had changed drastically and nobody knew why. They had thought that once he'd defeated Voldemort the old Harry would have returned. But the brunette was obviously depressed and in pain and no one could talk to him. He cared for Harry as much as he did for his own flesh and blood, and this shell of the boy he once knew not only concerned but frightened him.

Harry exits the Ministry building in a daze. He heads back towards Diagon Alley, knowing that he will not be returning to work that day. There is no point. He can't concentrate and he had no wish to be around other people with their concerned gazes and intrusive questions.

His heart twinges painfully as he longs for his precious invisibility cloak. So many times he wished that it was still in his possession, but sadly it had been reduced to a pile of ash along with Malfoy Manor. He'd lent it to his lover, hoping that it would help keep him safe whilst they were apart...

Harry shakes his head against the onslaught of memories, desperate to keep them at bay.

He makes his way through the pub and into the Diagon Alley. Before he can be recognized, he quickly apparates away to Hogsmeade Village.

Harry exhales, the tightness in his chest abating somewhat as he takes in the familiar surroundings.

Hogsmeade is virtually empty save for a few lowly shoppers huddled in their warmest cloaks against the harsh winds.

Harry slowly wanders down the street, glancing into the familiar shop windows. Memories of his childhood flit through his mind; exciting excursions to the small wizarding village, those treasured weekends when they could explore and shop and forget. Here Harry had felt like a normal teenager, nothing to think about save for what type of lollies to buy or which newest broom to drool over. He dearly missed those simple days.

Harry turns away from the cheery shop fronts and heads towards Hogwarts.

His feet carry him to the front gates without question, before he even knows where it is he wants to go.

Harry pauses, the wind whipping at his hair as he stares up at the turreted towers standing proud against the grey sky.

His heart beats wildly as he pushes through the iron gates and makes his way across the dew-covered lawns, eyes glued to the northern tower. His heart seems to be leading him onwards, his mind blessedly quiet for once as his body obeys.

Harry reaches the entrance doors and stops.

Three years ago he left this home, his haven since he was eleven, and now, at twenty he was back.

Everything looked the same and yet different.

Harry smiles a little as he puts his hand to the heavy wooden door and pushes.

The Entrance Hall is quiet and still, the majority of students in class. Harry feels the warmth and familiarity of it wash over him, even the smells are the same.

Harry's smile fades as the castle brings about inevitable thoughts and memories of Draco.

_Why the hell did I want to come back here? _

Harry frowns and, contradictory to his thoughts, strides away from the doors deeper into the school.

He walks purposefully through the halls, turning away from the curious gazes of the few straggling students as they pass by.

He is thankful that he does not pass any professors as he continues his trek towards the northern tower.

The small tower was once the owlery until the school felt it required more room for the growing number of students and their faithful pets.

It was just a small tower, abandoned and forgotten. It was also Harry and Draco's secret meeting place over the course of two years.

Harry glances around before heading up the spiralling staircase. The steps are dusty and there are cobwebs hanging from the stone walls, the delicate strands dancing in the breeze he creates as he moves past.

Harry steps into the old owlery, his breath catching in his throat as it all comes back to him.

Images assault him from every corner; there's the window ledge Harry was sitting on when Draco first came up to the tower to escape (unknowingly entering his arch-nemesis' own secret retreat), there is the table they used to eat meals together at, there's the broken remains of the wooden owl perches that they used to practice defence spells on, there's the cupboard full of old spell books that they used to read in each other's company, vainly trying to prepare themselves for a war that they would never be ready for. And there's the corner where they spent hours and hours lying naked in each other's arms; pale limbs and souls hopelessly entangled.

Harry barely notices his broken sob as he steps across the room and kneels on the pile of dusty blankets - _their_ blankets.

He closes his eyes and lifts one of the blankets up to his face. Beyond the layer of dust is the faint smell of him; that refined cologne, or was it the intoxicating shampoo the blond used?

Harry opens his eyes. It hurts to realise that he is starting to forget.

He tosses the blanket back to the floor and moves away to the other side of the shadowed room. He stands at the open window, gulping in huge lungfuls of the fresh cool air.

He should have never come back.

Harry swallows and slowly perches on the ledge, looking out over the expansive school grounds, a thick layer of fog rolling across the grass fields.

He lets his eyes fall shut as he allows himself to remember...

_"Harry! Harry, are you here?"_

_Harry drops his invisibility cloak to the floor and is immediately enveloped by his relieved lover._

_Draco clutches him tightly. "I... I thought I was too late. I thought you'd left already."_

_Harry feels tears prickling at his eyes as he holds onto the tall Slytherin for dear life. "I'd never leave without saying goodbye," he whispers, lips pressed into the side of Draco's warm neck._

_Draco's hold only tightens further. "I don't want you to go, stay here where you're safe."_

_Harry smiles sadly. "I'm not safe anywhere Draco." He pulls back to look into worried grey eyes. "Will __**you**__ promise to remain here at Hogwarts?"_

_Draco sighs in reluctant acceptance and slowly draws Harry back in to his body. "We're both just pawns in this bloody war. We should both just tell everyone to go fuck themselves."_

_Harry chuckles and wraps his arms around Draco's waist, laying his head down on his shoulder with eyes closed._

_Draco feels his heart rate begin to slow, his body relaxing as he stands with Harry in his arms. He'd been so frightened, frightened that Harry had left with the chance of them never seeing each other again hanging over their heads._

_"How much time do you have?" he asks, throat tight with emotion._

_"Until morning," Harry answers, voice muffled by Draco's shirt._

_Draco pulls back and looks his lover in the eye. "Will you spend it here? With me?"_

_Harry smiles. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."_

_Draco's eyes light with happiness but his tone is teasing as he replies. "Threat of imminent death really brings out the Hufflepuff in you Potter."_

_Harry grins but doesn't say anything, he learned to read the Slytherin's true emotions long ago. Instead, he reaches up to pull the smirking blond in for a tender kiss._

_Draco's eyes fall closed as he returns the gentle pressure; tasting Harry's sweet mouth and trying to imprint the taste and feel in his mind._

_Harry presses closer, parting his lips and stroking Draco's tongue with his own. The sensual dance both familiar and intoxicating._

_The kiss turns desperate and heated as hands are buried in hair and hips are pushed forwards, seeking contact._

_Harry moans quietly as Draco leaves off his mouth and kisses his sensitive throat, giving both of them a chance to regain their breath._

_Draco stops and leads Harry towards their make-shift bed in the far corner, grey eyes staring intently into emerald. The thick pile of blankets are soft under Harry's back as he lies back, gently pulling Draco down after him._

_Harry spreads his legs, allowing Draco's body to settle between them. He groans at the delicious pressure on his clothed erection._

_Draco kisses him deeply, hips automatically thrusting down into Harry's groin. Harry moans into the kiss, hands slipping beneath Draco's shirt and connecting with soft smooth skin._

_Draco sits up and quickly lifts his own shirt up over his head and off, tossing it aside. Harry mimics the motion with his own shirt, and then trousers and shoes and shorts until they are both naked in the moonlit room, eyes never leaving the others through it all._

_Draco slowly settles back down between Harry's thighs, the contact of skin on skin comforting and arousing all at once. Their body heat melts together as though they are one._

_Harry gazes up at Draco's pale face; half in shadow and half illuminated by the waning moonlight. He swallows back the impending tears and strokes an errant strand of silvery blond hair back behind Draco's ear to distract himself._

_Draco bites his lip at the raw emotion written on his lover's face and in those beautiful eyes. It's all there; the pain and threat of loss, fear of the unknown, and of course, undeniable love._

_Harry blinks in surprise as a warm tear drips onto his cheek from above. He looks up to see watery grey eyes. He's never seen Draco cry before._

_"Why do I feel as though I'll never see you again?" Draco says softly, as though thinking aloud._

_Harry swallows and doesn't know what to say to that. There __**was**__ a good chance that he could die in the next few weeks when the inevitable happened and he faced off with Voldemort. Harry took comfort in the fact that his precious Slytherin was leaving to stay with his family tomorrow. As much as he loathed and despised Lucius he could not begrudge that the man cared a great deal for his son and would never hurt him._

_"You think so too, don't you?" Draco asks, misinterpreting Harry's silence._

_Harry blinks and brings his focus back to Draco's concerned face. He reaches up and gently wipes a tear from the pale skin._

_"Of course we'll see each other again," Harry says firmly, trying to convince himself._

_Draco hears the false note in Harry's statement but refrains from comment._

_Harry sighs and slides his fingers through Draco's soft hair to the back of his head, pulling him down for a slow sweet kiss._

_Draco's eyes flutter shut as he returns the gentle pressure, trying to reassure each other through kisses and soft caressing touches instead of words._

_Harry's hands slide down to Draco's lower back and pull him down into him, wanting no space between their bodies. He can feel Draco's hard length pressed into his hip and he thrusts up into his body, needing more friction._

_Draco moans in the back of his throat as Harry grinds upwards against his body. He gently bites Harry's neck as he thrusts down against him, rolling their hips together._

_Harry moans, eyes shut tight and head tipping back as he writhes in ecstasy. "Want you. In me," he pants._

_Draco stills his hips, eyes closed bracingly at Harry's words, the Gryffindor's lust-filled voice almost causing him to come._

_Draco opens his eyes and pushes himself off of Harry to collect the well-used jar of lube that is hidden beneath the loose floorboard next to their bed._

_Harry shifts impatiently as the blond unscrews the lid and dips a finger into the clear liquid._

_Harry writhes in pleasure, his hand fluttering near his own erection lying hard against his abdomen as Draco prepares him._

_Draco finally coats himself with the lube, stroking his stiff cock a few times as he watches Harry moan in impatience on the blankets, legs parted and waiting._

_"Please..." Harry begs._

_Draco places himself at Harry's entrance and slowly pushes inside. Harry bites his lip as he arches into the wonderful sensation of pain and pleasure, of connecting with his lover, of being filled._

_Draco holds his breath as he watches his cock disappear within Harry's willing body. He exhales shakily once he is fully sheathed, his eyes moving back up to Harry's face._

_Harry swallows thickly, so many emotions choking him and clenching at his heart. "I love you."_

_It was the only thing to say. The only safe confession for tonight in their secret haven._

_Draco leans forward to kiss his full lips. He pulls away and then braces his weight on his hands on either side of Harry's body, beginning to thrust into him; slow and deep._

_Harry moans loudly, back arching off the floor as he braces his hands on the wall above his head. He forces himself to keep his eyes open, gazing up at Draco moving above him._

_The room is soon full of the sounds of skin on skin, and pants and moans and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath Harry's back._

_Draco is thrusting faster and faster as he slowly loses control; unwilling to end their last time together but unable to stop the impending orgasm._

_Harry roughly fists himself with one hand, eyes glued to his lover's face and body._

_Draco thrusts in deeply one last time and freezes, his cock spurting into his lover as he cries out Harry's name._

_Harry can't hold his eyes open any longer as his own orgasm erupts in his groin and warm bursts of white liquid squirt out over his hand and onto his lower abdomen._

_Draco watches Harry's orgasm in rapt attention, panting as he comes down from his own release._

_Harry milks his prick of every last drop before slowly opening his eyes._

_Draco smiles down at him, tired and sated. He gently pulls out and lies on his side next to Harry on the rumpled blankets._

_Harry turns on his side to face him. "That was a nice send-off," he comments._

_Draco smirks as he quickly flicks his wand over them to clear away the sticky mess on Harry's stomach._

_"Draco?"_

_"Hmm?" he replies, voice thick with post-coital haze._

_"Please be careful," he says hesitantly. "I... I don't want to lose you."_

_Draco opens his drooping eyes and meets Harry's earnest gaze. "You won't lose me. Ever."_

_Harry's heart skips a beat at the blonde's reply._

_Draco sits up to tug one of the blankets down over their cooling bodies. He draws Harry in towards him, the Gryffindor's head of dark unruly hair coming to rest on his chest._

_Harry shifts closer, slipping one arm across Draco's chest and inhaling that uniquely Malfoy scent mixed with the smell of sex._

_"Will we tell people about us when this is all over?"_

_Draco closes his eyes and smiles as he keeps one arm around Harry's warm body. "Of course, we've nothing to be ashamed of."_

_Harry smiles as sleep tugs at his increasingly heavy eyelids. "I want you to take my invisibility cloak," he says quietly._

_Draco shakes his head. "No, you need it-"_

_"No, I'll be fine, I'm not the one who's going to be surrounded by the bad guys. My back is covered Malfoy. I want you to take it," Harry insists firmly._

_Draco smiles and cracks one eye open, looking at the stubborn Gryffindor in amusement. "Alright Potter, I'll take the bloody thing. Now go to sleep, I don't want you falling asleep on the battle field."_

_Harry shivers, unconsciously shifting closer to the other boy. "I'm scared," he admits quietly._

_Draco tightens his arms around him. "I know, so am I."_

_Harry pauses. "I love you."_

_Draco frowns. "This isn't goodbye Potter."_

_Harry closes his eyes again. Just as he's about to drift off he hears Draco whisper in his ear._

_"I love you too."_

Harry opens his eyes, the moonlit room of his memory shifting back to the grey light of mid-day.

He doesn't even bother wiping away the tears rolling down his cheeks. His eyes are drawn back to the pile of blankets...

Harry abruptly turns on his heel and rushes from the room.

He ignores the even more curious stares as he sprints headlong through the school halls.

He bursts through the entrance doors and out onto the foggy grounds. He keeps running, regardless of the stitch in his side, wanting to run until he collapses from exhaustion. Not wanting to feel or think or remember anymore...

He ducks through the iron gates and keeps running towards Hogsmeade.

He stops along the empty road and rests his hands on his knees, breathing heavily, his chest burning.

After a few moments he apparates away with a loud crack.

"Harry?" Oliver says in surprise, opening the door to his flat to see his boyfriend standing there with flushed cheeks and wild eyes. "I thought we were meeting at your place? Wait, why aren't you at work? What's wrong?"

Harry throws himself at the older boy and holds on for dear life. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to be alone right now."

Oliver shuts the door and wraps his arms around Harry's trembling body. "Shh... love, it's okay. I'm here."

Harry clenches his eyes closed. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," he says into Oliver's broad shoulder. "I don't know why you're with me..."

Oliver smiles gently."Because I care about you Harry and I want to help you. Is... this because of your dream last night?"

Harry nods, feeling ashamed and pathetic. "I'm sorry..."

Oliver draws back and tilts Harry's chin up."Never be sorry Harry, you've been through a lot. I know I get frustrated at times, but I'll wait for you Harry, for as long as it takes."

Harry gives a watery smile as he looks into Oliver's warm eyes. "You're too good for me."

"I know," Oliver quips, smoothing Harry's tangled hair back from his forehead.

Harry smiles and wipes his tear-stained cheeks. His expression suddenly turns serious. "I... I think I should see someone."

Oliver's brows rise in surprise. "Like...a therapist or something?"

Harry nods, cheeks flushing slightly. "I just want to move on." He carefully takes Oliver's hand in his.

Oliver smiles and gives his hand a squeeze.

Harry steps forward and hesitantly presses his lips to the other boys. Oliver inhales in surprise. Harry very rarely initiates any sort of intimate contact. He quickly recovers though and eagerly opens his mouth to him.

Harry makes a noise of appreciation in the back of his throat and deepens the kiss. Oliver's hands slide around Harry's back and pull him forward.

The two stand pressed together for a few minutes, gradually slowing the kisses until it's just the gentle touching of lips.

Harry pulls back with a shy smile.

Oliver grins back happily. "Come on, let's go out for dinner."

Harry nods and waits while the older boy collects his cloak and shoes. He ignores the stabbing guilt in his chest as he links hands with Oliver and follows him out the door.


	2. Wish I Had Missed

**Chapter Two: I Wish I Had Missed the First Time That We Kissed**

Harry shifts under the thin sheet, shivering a little at the lack of warm covering. He blinks open his eyes and frowns at the unfamiliar surroundings.

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he is in his boyfriend's flat. He glances beside him to see Oliver curled up on his side, sleeping soundly, a slight smile on his face.

Harry sighs. He didn't want to be there, in fact, he wanted nothing more than to be curled up in his own warm bed at home - alone. He wanted to wallow in his misery and skip work, he didn't want to have to make chit-chat with Oliver.

Harry winces at the bluntness of his own thoughts.

He carefully extracts himself from the cool sheets and pads out to the bathroom in his boxers.

He glares at himself in the small round mirror over the porcelain basin. He'd had a very enjoyable dinner with Oliver the night before, and then they'd caught a film together before heading back to Oliver's. It was a perfect date with easy conversation and no awkward silences, and yet, there was always something missing, some emotion lacking. There was never any passion or fire, no spark of desire burning in his veins when they were together.

Harry shakes his head at himself. He really needed to stop comparing Oliver to Draco. As far as he could tell, nothing would ever be the same as that fire, that constant need to be possessed and taken, that raw animal hunger...

Harry groans quietly as his body begins to react to his heated thoughts. He quickly splashes some cold water on his face and wills away his growing erection. He would not wank over his dead lover, especially when currently standing in his boyfriend's bathroom.

A wry smile flashes across his face at just how morally wrong it was to even entertain that notion.

"I am so fucked up," he mutters, green eyes flicking back up to his drawn reflection.

He turns and returns to the bedroom to grab his clothes from the end of the bed.

"You're awake early."

Harry startles at the quiet voice, feeling as though he'd been caught in the act. Of what he wasn't quite sure.

"Uh...yeah," Harry replies, forcing a smile.

"Come back to bed," Oliver pleads sleepily, holding open the sheets for him.

Harry balks. "Er... I was going to make you breakfast," he quickly replies, that familiar stiff smile plastered on his face.

Oliver doesn't seem to notice. "Aren't you sweet?" he says, smiling, eyes falling shut once more as he burrows back into his pillow.

Harry feels that familiar wash of guilt sweep through his body as Oliver drifts off to sleep, still smiling in oblivious bliss.

He deftly pulls his t-shirt on over his head and walks out to the kitchen. He frowns at the many cupboards, wondering just what in the hell he was supposed to come up with for breakfast. All he really wanted to do was to slip out the front door.

Harry moves to the fridge and opens the door, staring in at the many varied contents.

He sighs as the thought of leaving and going home crosses his mind again. He wasn't being fair and he knew it. He would actively seek Oliver out when he needed comforting (like last night), but when it was the other boy who was looking for the same in return, Harry would continually push him away.

Harry slams the door shut in frustration, the items inside rattling noisily on their glass shelves.

He collapses into one of the kitchen chairs and stares numbly at some crumbs littering the tabletop in front of him.

His words from the night before drift through his mind; about seeking professional help. Harry frowns, idly sweeping the scattered bread crumbs around with his hand. He can't imagine opening up to a total stranger, dredging up all those painful memories and just laying them out there to be analysed. What he had had with Draco was special and not something to be picked apart.

Harry stops playing with the crumbs as his hand curls into a fist.

He couldn't go on like this, something had to give. He could either break it off with Oliver and go back to living the way he was before, or he could do something about his self-destructing behaviour and move on. He'd been through too much to waste his life away like this.

Harry stands and returns to the fridge.

Within thirty minutes he had managed to make scrambled eggs, sausages, toast and roasted tomatoes. He pours a glass of orange juice and sets everything on a tray.

Oliver's eyes crack open, crinkling into a smile as he watches Harry enter with his breakfast. "Wow, thanks dear," he quips, sitting up and taking the heavy tray from Harry's hands.

Harry laughs in embarrassment and wipes his hands on his wrinkled trousers, feeling lighter than before, full of fresh determination.

"I'm glad you stayed the night," Oliver says, smiling at him as he picks up his fork and knife. "And not just because of the great room service."

"Me too," Harry smiles in return.

"Aren't you having any?"

He shakes his head. "No, I gotta get to work. You in training today?"

Oliver nods and takes a bite of buttered toast. "We have a game tomorrow night."

"Oh that's right," Harry says, even though he didn't remember.

"Will you be there?"

Harry smiles even as his stomach drops in dread. He hated it when the reporters at the games took his photo with Oliver and plastered it all over the front page, as though their relationship made for interesting news. "Of course. What's the point of having a professional quidditch player as a boyfriend if you don't take advantage of the free tickets?"

Oliver chuckles around a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"See you tonight?" Harry says, preparing to leave.

Oliver's brows rise in surprise. "Three nights in a row? What did I do to deserve that?"

Harry forces a smile, Oliver's words stabbing him with guilt. "No reason. Meet me at my place tonight?"

Oliver smiles, looking pleased. "Sure, see you then."

Harry gives him a quick kiss on the cheek then makes a hasty exit. He quickly slips into his cloak and pulls on the black boots that he only used for work.

Out in the hall, Harry quickly apparates away to Diagon Alley.

As soon as his feet make contact with solid ground, Harry breathes a sigh of relief. He never did feel completely comfortable in Oliver's flat, he much preferred being in his own space.

Harry makes his way to the Ministry, his mind distracted by thoughts of where to begin looking for a therapist or counsellor.

He nods at a few work colleagues and quickly makes his way to his tiny office.

Harry stops dead in the doorway to his office. "Professor McGonagall," he says in surprise, staring at the headmistress sitting in front of his cluttered desk.

"Good morning Mr Potter," the wizened witch smiles warmly in greeting. "I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I was hoping to have a quick chat."

Harry smiles nervously, suddenly feeling like a first year again. "Of course. Er... sorry about the mess," he says sheepishly, gesturing around his office.

Harry closes the door behind him and hangs his cloak up on the brass wall hook before sitting across from his ex head of house.

"What can I help you with?" he asks curiously.

Professor McGonagall shifts in the wooden chair, removing a small package from the black bag beside her.

"I have some things here for you."

Harry leans forward curiously, hands braced on top of his desk. "Things?"

"Yes, I have in my possession some things that were left to you, in a will."

Harry frowns in confusion. "A will? Whose will?"

Professor McGonagall places the wrapped cloth package on top of the scattered papers in front of Harry.

"Draco Malfoy's."

Harry's heart stops and he forgets to breathe for a moment. His head feels as though it's spinning, the room begins to tilt alarmingly...

Harry closes his eyes a moment and takes a steadying breath.

"Are you alright?"

Harry opens his eyes and forces himself to nod. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Sorry, just... surprised."

The headmistress gazes at him with concern. "The items have been checked over thoroughly for any hidden charms or dark magic. Nothing has been found. These things have been with the Malfoy's solicitor for some time, no bodies were identified so there was a customary waiting period before the family could be pronounced legally dead."

Harry nods, eyes glued to the dark green package.

"Mr Potter, do you have idea as to why Mr Malfoy would have left these things to you? I did not realize you were friends. I was a bit concerned about the intention behind it..."

Harry swallows and unglues his throat. "We weren't friends," he answers croakily. "But... we didn't hate each other either. We sort of came to... an understanding." Harry blinks and glances up. "I had more important things to worry about than silly school rivalries."

Minerva nods in understanding. "The Ministry thought it best if the package came from someone you knew. As Professor Dumbledore had endeavoured to be legally listed as your next of kin, they thought it appropriate that I take over." She pauses, giving him one of her rare warm smiles. "I'll leave you to it then Mr Potter."

She slowly rises to leave and Harry jumps to his feet.

"What's in it?" he asks.

The headmistress glances at the package. "See for yourself Mr Potter. Good day."

She opens the door and steps into the hallway.

"Oh and Mr Potter, next time you visit Hogwarts do please stop in to say hello."

Harry freezes, cheeks reddening, as Professor McGonagall gives him a knowing look; not unlike Professor Dumbledore's twinkling expression.

Harry's eyes drop back to the package as the door is softly shut behind her.

He slowly sinks into his seat, staring at the wrapped bundle as though expecting it to move.

Harry's heart is hammering in his chest, his palms sweaty, and his body feeling as though all the blood is draining into his feet.

He stares at the small package for minutes that seem to stretch on forever. He suddenly reaches out and snatches it. He grabs his cloak and safely tucks it within before heading for the door.

He knew he couldn't open it there at work. He needed privacy.

Harry exits the Ministry, briefly wondering if his supervisor was taking any notice of his frequent absences.

He steps out into muggle London and immediately finds a safe spot to apparate to his flat.

Harry slams the door shut behind him and heads for the lounge room. He sits on the rug and reverently places the small bundle down in front of him.

He stares at it, the sunlight pouring in through the window and slanting across the shimmering green fabric.

He takes a few calming breaths then reaches out with shaking hands to undo the ties.

The wrapping falls away to reveal three small items; one silver pewter box with ornate vines and leaves carved into its dark silver surface, one green and silver Slytherin tie, and one picture frame that seemed to be made of an iridescent ivory material.

Harry stares at the three seemingly insignificant items. The only one he recognises is Draco's Slytherin tie from school. He picks it up, fingers trembling slightly as he strokes the silky soft material, letting it slide coolly between his fingers. He brings it up to his nose and inhales, closing his eyes as the very faint aroma of vanilla swirls around him. It was Draco's favourite scent.

Harry opens his eyes and quickly sets it aside, pushing back the tears that are threatening to accumulate in his prickling eyes.

He reaches for the pewter box next. It is light in his palm as he lifts it up to the light, eyes trailing over the intricate designs detailed into the four sides. There is a hinge on one side, almost concealed within the artwork. Harry puts his thumb below the lip of the lid and carefully pushes open the top.

The inside is lined with cream silk and nestled in the bottom is a single silver ring. Harry slowly reaches in and plucks it from the soft pillow. It is a matte silver with two thin dark green bands running around the top and bottom. Harry tilts it in the light, trying to remember if he ever saw Draco with it on... Then he sees the inscription thinly scrawled on the inside of the ring:

'_Leo quod snake una in pacis'_

Harry frowns as he attempts to translate the Latin in his head. "When...the lion and snake...come together...in...peace," he translates aloud.

Harry clenches the small ring in his fist. "Fuck you Malfoy," he whispers brokenly. "Why aren't you here?"

Harry quickly puts the ring back into the box and shuts it. He places the pewter box beside the tie and turns to the last item; the ivory picture frame.

At his touch, the glass in the frame begins to flash and sparkle. Harry squints at it in his hands, then his eyes widen as he watches a photograph take shape within the beautiful frame.

He knows what will be in the picture and his first instinct is to throw it across the room and smash it into a million pieces, but he can not, he can only watch frozen in horror as the moving photograph takes shape. He stares at the blond boy in the photo who is smirking at the camera, his left arm slung across the shoulders of the happy brunette beside him. The walls of their owlery are in the background, the warm summer's day captured in the distance through the arched window.

Harry watches his photographic self smile at Draco, keeping his head turned away from the camera. He never liked having his photo taken, yet his smile was anything but annoyed. He was happy and in love.

Tears roll unnoticed down Harry's cheeks as he watches Draco turn to give him a kiss on the cheek, the Harry in the photograph wrinkling his nose in feigned disgust and laughing. They were both laughing, both young and happy, unaware of the looming future that neither of them could have predicted.

Harry slowly puts the frame down on the floor. As soon as his fingers release it, the photograph disappears, leaving the frame empty once more.

Harry stares numbly down at the three objects. His fingers are itching to make the photograph appear once more, to knot the tie around his throat and be surrounded by vanilla, to place the ring onto his finger and never take it off...

Harry swallows and, as though watching himself from faraway, he quietly places all the items back into the cloth and binds them up. He stands and takes the package to his bedroom and pushes the bundle as far back into his closet as he can.

Once the package is no longer visible, he closes the closet door and returns to the kitchen.

"Only one thing to do now," he mutters to himself, opening the cupboard. "Get pissed."

Harry reaches in and removes every bottle of liquor that he owns.

**********

Hermione Granger slowly sinks onto the sofa, one hand holding open a large novel and the other holding a small plastic cup of yoghurt. Her eyes never leave the pages of her book as she sets the novel down on the coffee table and takes a spoonful of the blueberry yoghurt.

She had just finished her last day of work before a long awaited holiday and she wanted nothing more than to relax for the evening - unfortunately that was not going to happen.

She glances up in annoyance as her doorbell chimes.

"Who could that be?" she mutters to herself as she saves her place with a bookmark and unfolds her legs from beneath her to stand.

She frowns as her doorbell begins to chime again and again, almost like whoever it was is attempting to play a tune.

She frowns and pulls open the door, ready to tell the person to shove off. She stumbles backwards as she is bowled over by an overly exuberant Harry Potter.

"Harry! What are you doing?" she cries, arms immediately going around the off-balance wizard. "Are you alright?"

Harry pulls back and grins, eyes slightly unfocused and breath reeking of alcohol.

Hermione groans and rolls her eyes. "You're drunk," she states unnecessarily.

Harry nods, smiling goofily. "I don't know why I didn't think of this before," he says excitedly.

"Of what?" Hermione asks, trying to direct him over to the couch.

Harry falls back into the plump white cushions and closes his eyes. "Getting pissed."

Hermione exhales and takes a step back. "What are you talking about Harry? I've seen you drunk before."

Harry shakes his head. "But that was for fun, this is for...therapy," he giggles.

Hermione sighs and perches on the coffee table next to her waiting novel. "You don't know what you're saying."

Harry tries to focus on her, frowning. "Yes I do, I'm drinking away the past. I am the new me," he grins triumphantly. "No rings here."

Hermione rolls her eyes and stands. "I'm going to make you some coffee and then you'd better explain yourself."

Hermione moves about the kitchen, grabbing two mugs and setting the kettle on the cooktop to boil. She empties two packets of instant coffee into the blue porcelain mugs and places some digestive biscuits onto a plate.

She peeks in at Harry while waiting for the water to boil. He seems to be attempting to read the cover of her novel, turning his head this way and that as he frowns cross-eyed at the writing.

Hermione nearly giggles at the sight before irritation takes over once more. She had to get up early the next day to make an early flight and did not want to have to deal with an inebriated Harry Potter all night.

The whistle sounds on the kettle and she quickly mixes up the coffees and returns to the lounge.

Harry puts down the novel and smiles at the plate of biscuits, immediately reaching for a couple.

"Now Harry," she begins, sitting next to him on the couch. "Why have you been drinking all day by yourself?"

Harry munches on the biscuit and turns to her. "I haven't been drinking all day. Only..." he glances fuzzily at his watch. "Oh... it has been awhile..." He starts to laugh at his discovery, biscuit crumbs falling into his lap.

Hermione sighs and takes a sip of coffee. "Where's Oliver? You're his mess to clean up not mine."

Harry pauses, his smile fading.

Hermione's eyes widen. "Oh my god, did something happen between you and Oliver? Did he break up with you?"

Harry places the other biscuit back onto the plate and stares at his hands. "No," he answers quietly.

"Then what's happened Harry?" Hermione asks in concern, hoping that whatever has been bothering her best friend for the past year has finally come to a head and he would tell her about it.

Harry closes his eyes and sits back. "I... I got a present today."

"Present?" Hermione encourages.

Harry nods and opens his eyes, trying to focus on the room around him. "Yeah, from Draco..."

"Draco?" Hermione frowns. "As in Malfoy?"

Harry swallows, his stomach roiling with alcohol and anxiety. Somehow he keeps talking even though some part of his brain is yelling at him to stop. "Yep, the one and only. He left me a gift in his will."

"Why would he do that?" Hermione asks quietly, trying to piece the puzzle together as Harry continues to speak.

"Because he loves me," Harry says, smiling again. "And I love him. We love each other."

Hermione places her mug onto the coffee table and gently takes Harry's hands in her own. "Harry," she says carefully. "What do you mean? Draco Malfoy is dead."

Harry frowns and feebly tries to rip his hands away. "No! He's not... He's not..."

Hermione tightens her hold on Harry's hands, keeping him in place. "Harry, please talk to me. Did Malfoy really leave you something in his will?"

Harry stops struggling, shoulders drooping in defeat. "Yes," he says with a slight slur to his voice. "Yes."

Hermione pauses, thinking back on what Harry had already said. "And what do you mean he loves you? I don't understand..."

Harry lifts his head and blearily looks at her. "He... we..."

Hermione's expression clears. "Harry, were you and Malfoy... seeing each other?"

It all suddenly made sense to her. Harry's depression started from the time Malfoy Manor was destroyed, not from Voldemort's death. The two days were so close together that she never noticed. He wasn't upset that he had no purpose in life now, he was upset because...

"Harry?" she asks quietly. "How long were you together?"

"Two years," he whispers despondently.

Hermione gasps quietly. "Two years? Why didn't you tell us? How... how did we not know?"

Harry flops back against the couch, his eyes still not quite focused. "It was a secret. It was _our_ secret," he says tonelessly. "No one knew."

Hermione bites lip with a frown. "Harry, how do you know he wasn't trying to-"

"I know!" Harry says sharply. "Do you really think he was carrying out some evil plan for two years?"

Hermione lowers her eyes. "I guess not," she says in acquiescence. "And... you loved him?"

Harry leans forward, his head falling into his hands, fingers raking through his dark hair. "Yes, fuck... I loved him so much."

Hermione watches in shock as tears fall from Harry's emerald eyes onto the floor.

"Oh Harry..." she says sadly, shifting over to put an arm around him."Why didn't you tell me earlier? Why did you try to cope with this on your own?"

Harry shakes his head in his hands. "You wouldn't understand. You _don't_ understand. You hated Malfoy and you've never lost someone you loved. Your fiancée is safe and sound in Bulgaria."

"Maybe I don't know what it's like, but Harry... I'm your friend. I want to help you-"

Harry lifts his head and unsteadily gets to his feet. He turns to glare accusingly at her. "You can't help me! Oliver can't help me! I can't fucking be helped!"

Hermione feels her own eyes prickling as she feels the pain rolling off her best friend in palpable waves.

"Does Oliver know?"

Harry sways on his feet as he closes his eyes in pain. "Yes, he's the only one who knows. He puts up with my shit and never complains, never pushes or gets angry or tired. I don't fucking deserve him. He loves me and I'm still in love with someone else."

Harry sinks to his knees on the carpet, his tears running freely now.

Hermione quickly slides to the floor beside him, wrapping his trembling body in her arms.

"How did you get together?" she asks quietly, trying to get him to talk. "Last I knew you hated Malfoy."

Harry lifts his head and wipes his eyes tiredly. "I did, until I got to know the real him. Remember when I used to constantly slip away in year six?"

Hermione nods, her head resting on Harry's shoulder.

"Well, I found a great secret hiding place, only, it wasn't so secret..."

_"Potter?"_

_Harry turns in surprise to see Draco Malfoy standing at the top of the stone staircase to the owlery. "Malfoy?"_

_The blond hesitates, eyes flicking around the empty room before coming back to rest on Harry sitting alone in the stone window._

_"What the hell are you doing Potter? Going to jump?" he adds with a sneer._

_Harry narrows his eyes and draws his legs up onto the ledge beneath him. "Yeah, maybe I am," he challenges._

_Malfoy snorts and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "You wouldn't."_

_Harry raises one brow and shifts onto the balls of his feet in a crouched position. "Oh no?"_

_Malfoy merely watches him with narrowed eyes. "Go on then."_

_Harry glares at him then glances out the window. "Fine."_

_Harry shuffles over to the edge, smirking because he knows that Malfoy can't see the little balcony just a few feet down from the window._

_"I hope they blame you for my death Malfoy," he calls over his shoulder._

_Draco uncrosses his arms, his brow creasing. "Come on Potter, stop being such a tosser. We both know you're not going to do it."_

_Harry shifts closer to the edge, hands braced on either side of the arched window._

_"Goodbye Malfoy. I'm leaving you to deal with Voldemort on your own. I can't do it anymore."_

_Harry hides a smile as he tenses to drop out the window._

_"Wait!"_

_Harry flinches as a strong hand closes around his upper arm. He turns in surprise to see Malfoy clutching him, steely gray eyes wide with some unknown emotion._

_Then those silver orbs slide to the window and the waiting balcony._

_"Fuck you Potter," Malfoy snarls, then viciously shoves him away._

_Harry tumbles out the window landing hard on his hands and knees. He looks up, eyes narrowed in anger, to see the Slytherin turn and walk away._

_Two weeks later, Harry rushes up the spiral staircase and stumbles to a halt at the entrance to the owlery._

_"Back again Potter," Malfoy drawls, standing at the window._

_Harry's grip tightens on his wand as he cautiously takes a few steps forward. "Stalking me Malfoy?"_

_The blond smiles coldly. "I was here first."_

_"No I believe I was," Harry counters stonily._

_Malfoy turns away from him to look out the window. "Well Slytherin's don't share so piss off Potter."_

_"No."_

_Malfoy is quiet for a moment then shrugs uncharacteristically. "Fine, suit yourself."_

_Harry frowns. "What's your game Malfoy?"_

_Draco turns to look at him, eyes quietly appraising. "No games Potter, I am merely seeking a bit of quiet solitude. Quiet being the operative word here."_

_Harry takes a few more steps further into the room. "What are you thinking about?" he asks curiously._

_"Didn't you hear me?" Malfoy barks, glaring. "I said quiet!"_

_Harry's temper flares then fizzles as he bites his lip to keep from laughing._

_"What's so funny?" Malfoy demands furiously._

_"Nothing actually," Harry replies truthfully, still grinning._

_Malfoy looks at him as though he's crazy then turns away. "You're insane Potter, you know that?"_

_Harry smiles and closes the distance to the window, standing on the opposite side to Malfoy. "Yeah, but you like me."_

_Malfoy snorts softly through his nose. "In your dreams Chosen One."_

_Harry laughs. "If I remember correctly, it was you who saved me from killing myself."_

_Malfoy's expression darkens. "I didn't do it to save you, I did it to save me."_

_Harry's smile fades. "What do you mean?"_

_Draco opens his mouth then closes it again. Finally he angrily whirls to face him. "Stop asking questions Potter! Don't you ever shut up?"_

_Harry watches in shock as Draco storms past him and out._

_Only a week passes the next time before Draco inevitably returns._

_Harry glances up from where he is stretched out on the floor reading. He remains silent as Malfoy enters and, ignoring him, walks over to the window._

_Harry watches him a moment then returns to his book. Being with the blond was like being on thin ice, you never knew when he was going to crack._

_After about fifteen minutes of silence, Draco turns and looks at him. "What are you reading Potter?"_

_Harry clenches his jaw at the sneering tone. "A book," he answers petulantly._

_There's a brief silence, then, "what book?"_

_This time the sneering condescension is clearly missing._

_Harry glances up. "The Sword in the Stone."_

_Malfoy looks interested despite himself as he walks over. "Never heard of it."_

_"It's a muggle story," Harry replies, watching him carefully._

_Malfoy frowns but doesn't say anything._

_Harry sits up and reaches for the pile of books beside him. "I've got loads of books if you want to read one."_

_Malfoy's lip curls in disdain. "I don't need your stupid books Potter."_

_Harry bites his tongue, refusing to rise. "Suit yourself. It's great escapism though."_

_"Escapism?" Malfoy sneers._

_"Yeah," Harry says, glancing up meaningfully. "They help you forget who you are and the mess of the world around you."_

_Draco merely turns away with apparent disgust._

_Harry shrugs and returns to his well-worn book._

_He nearly jumps in fear when Malfoy picks up one of the books from the pile beside him ten minutes later. He'd almost forgotten the blond was even there._

_Malfoy settles on the floor across the room from him and opens the cover of The Secret Garden._

_Harry smiles to himself and goes back to his own book._

_And so it continued, once a week they would silently read the books in the owlery together, then it turned into every few days. One month later they started to talk._

_"So what's your plan oh Chosen One?" Malfoy smirks, lying on his side, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe laying open in front of him._

_"I don't really have one," Harry admits, glancing over._

_Draco raises one brow. "Shouldn't you come up with one, great leader?"_

_Harry smiles wryly. "It's not that easy. I find it's better to just sit back and wait for him to make his move."_

_"And then you run in with guns blazing?"_

_Harry laughs. "Yeah something like that."_

_Draco smiles then turns serious. "I don't want to fight against him."_

_"So don't," Harry says simply._

_Malfoy hesitates. "I don't want to fight against you either."_

_"Cause you know you'd lose," Harry jokes._

_Malfoy looks at him for a minute then smiles. "In your dreams Potter."_

_"You seem to know a lot about my dreams Malfoy."_

_Draco laughs and throws one of the broken owl perches at him._

_Harry whips out his wand and fires off a spell, blasting the wooden perch into pieces._

_The two grin at each other for a moment, then the air is soon thick with tiny bits of wood and lightning fast spells._

_They both stop, panting, surrounded by the massacred owl perches._

_Harry laughs and Draco soon follows._

_"That was fun," Harry says once he's regained his breath._

_Malfoy nods, grey eyes more alive than he'd ever seen them._

_The turning point in their relationship came two months later..._

_"He really is a decent man though," Draco says, flipping to the next page of Romeo and Juliet._

_Harry snorts. "Yeah right, he hates me. He hated me from the moment he met me."_

_Malfoy looks up from where he's laying on his stomach. "That just proves he's intelligent," he smirks._

_Harry narrows his eyes and throws a dusty pillow at him._

_"Hey!" Malfoy dodges it in disgust as Harry laughs._

_They both return to their books with smiles on their faces._

_"My father doesn't want to follow him anymore you know," Draco says after a few minutes of silence._

_Harry looks up at the quietly spoken words._

_Draco stares hard at the page in front of him as he speaks. "My mother never wanted to, she would have run a long time ago if it weren't for my father and I. We... we are a family despite what you may think."_

_"Why doesn't he get out then?" Harry asks._

_Draco shakes his head. "No, he's in too deep. He would find him and kill him."_

_"So he lives in fear," Harry surmises darkly._

_Malfoy looks up. "Yes, most of them do. I do."_

_Harry sits up and sets his book aside. "Have you... chosen sides Malfoy?"_

_Here the blond looks away and Harry thinks for a moment that he's pushed too far, waiting for the explosion. But Malfoy seems to gather himself and exhales shakily._

_"Yes," he admits quietly. "I will not follow in my father's footsteps, I will not allow that monster to rule my life forever."_

_"Good," Harry replies firmly._

_Malfoy glances up at him, a slight smile lighting his pale face. "You'd better beat him Harry."_

_Harry smiles in response. "No pressure."_

_Suddenly there is an explosion of colour and light in the night sky._

_Harry leaps to his feet, wand drawn._

_Draco rolls over onto his back, laughing. "It's just fireworks Potter."_

_"What? Why?" Harry frowns in confusion._

_Draco stands and dusts himself off. "It's Dumbledore's birthday, remember?"_

_Harry lowers his wand feeling foolish. Of course, the headmaster had said there would be a big celebration this year for his birthday. He'd forgotten all about it._

_"Come on Potter," Malfoy smirks and moves over to the window, dropping down onto the outer balcony._

_Harry follows, slipping his wand back into the waistband of his jeans._

_The two lean against the stone railing circling the small balcony, faces raised to the bursts of colour and noise above them. The explosions take the shape of dragons and stars and other funny animals, as well as giant round balls of light that glitter and sparkle as they slowly float downward towards the earth._

_"Wow..." Harry grins up at the spectacle. It's certainly a sight to behold._

_He glances sideways at Malfoy and sees the blond looking back at him, smiling the most care-free, unguarded smile he's ever seen on the Slytherin's face._

_Harry didn't know what made him do it, but all of a sudden he found himself leaning towards those pale pink lips. He presses his mouth to them, and they are so warm and wonderfully soft and..._

_"Oh my god," Harry stumbles backwards in horror, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry Malfoy, I don't know why I did that. I... I've never done that before, fuck I'm so sorry. I don't know why-"_

_Draco licks his lips and surveys the shaken Gryffindor in amusement. "Quit your waffling Potter and kiss me again."_

_Harry gapes as the blond slinks towards him. Harry backs up until he is pressed against the stone balustrade._

_Draco stops a hairsbreadth away, his warm breath ghosting across Harry's trembling lips._

_"Haven't you ever kissed a boy before Potter?"_

_Harry swallows and shakes his head, unable to make a sound._

_Draco smiles, his expression predatory. "Do you want to?"_

_Harry licks his dry lips. "Er... I... I guess I do. I mean, I've never really thought about it until..."_

_"Me?"_

_Harry nods honestly. "Have...you kissed a boy before?"_

_"A few times," Malfoy admits nonchalantly._

_"Oh."_

_Draco smiles. "It's wonderful, let me show you."_

_Harry's eyes flutter shut as Draco's smooth warm lips press against his once more. His heart is racing as he slowly moves his lips against him, tilting his head a little._

_Draco pulls back, smirking grey eyes gazing into green. "How was that?"_

_Harry stares in wonderment. "That was amazing. So much better than with girls!"_

_Draco chuckles softly._

_"Wow... I mean, that felt..." Harry shakes his head, trying to come to terms with the fact that he just kissed a boy - __**Malfoy**__ - and enjoyed it immensely. "Isn't this wrong?"_

_Draco arches a brow. "Sin from my lips?" He whispers sensuously. "O trespass sweetly urged. Give me my sin again."_

_Harry gasps quietly as Draco presses his mouth to his. Harry's eyes widen then fall shut as Draco's arms wind their way around his back and one hand tangles in his hair._

_Harry returns the kiss with fervor, opening his mouth at Draco's gentle urging. Their tongues touch for the first time and Harry moans heatedly._

_Harry clutches at the Slytherin's shoulders, wanting to be devoured, wanting to be taken and merged into one body. Wanting to taste and explore and memorize every sweet detail._

_They finally stop, pulling away and panting as they stare into each other's eyes._

_"You kiss by the book," Harry quotes breathlessly._

_Draco smiles. "I'm impressed Potter - and not just by your talented mouth."_

_Harry smiles then hesitates. "So what happens now?"_

_Draco regards him carefully. "What do you want to happen?"_

_"I know I want to keep snogging," Harry grins._

_Draco smirks. "No worries there." He pauses, tilting his blond head to one side. "Do you... want to keep meeting here?"_

_Harry looks into those stormy grey eyes, drowning in them. "Yes."_

_Draco nods and Harry's heart soars at the relief in the other boy's expression._

_"I've kissed a few others, but..." Draco pauses, expression strangely contemplative. "It's never felt like this."_

_Harry smiles softly. "For me either. Although, to be fair, it turns out I was kissing the wrong sex. That's hardly a fair-"_

_Harry is cut off by Draco pashing him firmly on the mouth._

_Harry smiles into the kiss, arms wrapping around Draco's back and pulling him close. The two continue to kiss, oblivious to the exploding fireworks above.  
><em>

"Oh Harry..." Hermione's eyes are full of tears as she hugs her friend. "I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry about Malfoy."

Harry nods then stops, the room tilting around him. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Harry's face pales, eyes closing against the sudden onslaught of nausea. His turmoil of emotions mixing with the alcohol and an empty stomach is not a good combination.

"Just wait here." Hermione jumps to her feet and runs to grab a bucket from the kitchen.

She quickly returns and places the blue plastic mop bucket in Harry's hands. "Sorry but I don't really fancy trying to drag you all the way to the toilet."

Harry smiles sheepishly, eyes still unfocused.

"How much did you drink Harry?" Hermione asks, shaking her head.

"Loads." Harry groans, closing his eyes and pulling the bucket close.

Hermione chews her lip, waiting to see if he's going to be sick or not. Harry merely sways; skin sickly pale with a fine sheen of sweat.

After a few moments Harry opens his eyes again.

"What am I supposed to do Hermione?" he asks, heartbreakingly quiet."I don't know how to get past this. I still miss him so much..."

Hermione rubs his back, not knowing what to say. "I wish there was something I could do."

Harry gazes blearily into the bottom of the bucket. "I was going to see a therapist or something, but... I don't think they can help. They'll just make me talk about him, I don't want to re-live it, I just want...to...forget..."

Harry slowly raises his head, eyes staring into the distance.

"Harry?" Hermione frowns in concern. "What is it?"

Harry swallows and brings his gaze to Hermione's face. "'Mione, will you do something for me?"

Hermione doesn't trust the strange tone in her best friend's voice. "Depends on what it is..." she answers slowly.

Harry licks his lips and shifts to face her directly. "Alter my memory."

"Harry-"

"Please Hermione!" Harry pleads desperately. "You don't understand what it's like! I can't go ten minutes without thinking about him, remembering his touch or his smell or his laugh. It's fucking torture!"

Hermione shakes her head. "But Harry, to alter your memory... Would you really want to forget him altogether?"

Harry swallows, one lone tear escaping from his shining emerald eyes and slipping down his cheek. "I don't know what else to do," he says, voice breaking. "I don't want to forget him but I can't go on like this. It's killing me. Do you know I even thought about suicide at one point?" he adds quietly.

"Oh Harry..." Hermione exclaims, one hand covering her mouth in shock.

"You said you wanted to help me, well I'm begging you Hermione, as a friend, please help me. Obliviate him from my memory."

Hermione gazes into her friend's pleading face, those wide green eyes begging for help. His expression is that of a drowning man desperately grasping for a life raft.

"Are you absolutely sure?" she asks hesitantly.

Harry nods, then his skin pales again as he drags the bucket closer.

Hermione frowns. "Harry, you're still drunk, why don't you wait until you're sober?"

"Tomorrow then," Harry says.

"I can't, I'm off to Bulgaria tomorrow."

"For how long?"

"Three months."

"Then do it now," Harry says in frustration. "I can't wait three months."

"Harry, you're not thinking clearly-"

"I am!" he exclaims loudly. "Hermione, I am out of options. It's either this or curl up and die because that's all I want to do!"

Hermione bites her lip, feeling torn.

"Besides, you can always reverse the spell," Harry adds.

"Yes but you would never ask me to reverse it because you won't remember that I did it!"

"Well, if I'm not happy then you'll know."

Hermione sighs, looking away.

"Do you know what he left me in his will?" Harry continues quietly. "A ring. A ring with an inscription that he meant to give me when the war was over, when we could finally be together-" Harry chokes off, unable to continue.

Hermione's brown eyes fill with tears. "Please don't make me," she whispers.

Harry leans towards her, both his hands clasping onto hers. "I trust you, you're the best at memory charms Hermione."

"I don't want to be responsible for this..."

"I can't regret what I don't remember," Harry says firmly. "Yes it hurts to think I won't remember him but I want to be happy again, and I won't be so long as I can remember Draco."

Hermione can feel herself wavering, thinking back on Harry's behavior for the past year and a half. No, it wasn't a silly drunken impulse decision, he had definitely been depressed and in pain for some time. She had wished to have the old Harry back so many times and now here was her chance...

Hermione takes a deep breath and slowly let's it out. She withdraws her wand and stands. "Are you really sure Harry?"

Harry nods, hope lighting his face.

Hermione frowns. "I hope I'm doing the right thing," she mutters.

Harry holds his breath as Hermione raises her wand, directing the tip of it towards his head.

Harry nods firmly as Hermione meets his gaze.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes before whispering the powerful spell...


	3. Dont You Know I'm Not Your Ghost Anymore

_**A/N**_: Forgot to give credit where credit is due. Story title and all chapter titles are from Christina Perri's gorgeous song 'Jar of Hearts.' Also, have stolen the 'toilet entrance' to the Ministry from the films.

**Chapter Three: Don't You Know I'm Not Your Ghost Anymore?**

Harry moans and turns over, clenching his eyes shut against the terrible pounding in his head and the hollow queasy feeling in his stomach.

"Harry?"

Harry moans again and cracks one eye open at his name being softly called from somewhere nearby. Oliver is sitting on the edge of his bed, fighting a smile and holding a glass of purple liquid.

"I think you might need this," he says, holding up the hang-over potion.

Harry stares at his boyfriend blearily. "Is it morning?"

Oliver nods with a smile.

Harry shifts and slowly reaches out for the purple potion. He downs it in one go, the taste lingering on his tongue and tingling its way down his throat. He returns the empty glass to Oliver and carefully sits up with a grimace.

"What happened last night?" he asks with a frown, trying to remember.

"I think you were three sheets to the wind for most of yesterday," Oliver chuckles. "Hermione dragged your sorry arse here late last night."

"Hermione?" Harry frowns, trying to piece together the events of yesterday. His brain felt incredibly fuzzy and only blurry bits and pieces were coming back to him. "I don't even remember seeing her. I remember lining up tequila shots along the bench..."

Oliver laughs then covers his mouth with one hand when Harry winces at the noise. "Sorry. Potion should take effect any second now."

Harry nods, already feeling the pounding beginning to subside, but his stomach is still gurgling unhappily. "So... Hermione brought me home and... did I just pass out?"

"Nearly," Oliver smiles. "You thought it would be brilliant to dance for me first."

"What?" Harry exclaims loudly then immediately regrets it, placing a hand to his temple with a low moan.

Oliver snickers. "Yep, you put on quite the show Potter, then ended the routine by being sick on the carpet. I was just relieved that we weren't at _my_ place."

Harry smiles reluctantly. "Please don't ever mention this again."

"I won't," Oliver promises. "I just wish I'd had a camera. I'm sure the Daily Prophet would have paid a bundle for photos of an exotic dancing Harry Potter."

Harry laughs, his headache almost gone completely now.

"You actually weren't too bad," Oliver admits, cheeks flushing slightly.

"Oh?" Harry arches a brow. "Were you... _excited_ by my drunken dance?"

Oliver smiles, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Yeah, I admit I was - until you threw up."

Harry laughs and shakes his head. "Classy."

Oliver grins and stands. "Ready for some breakfast?"

"Yeah." Harry smiles and throws back the blankets. He sways a little as he gets to his feet, his vision going black for a moment.

"You alright there?" Oliver asks, steadying him with a hand on his elbow.

Harry waits a moment for his vision to clear and nods. Oliver looks at him in surprise as Harry slips a hand into his before following him from the room.

Oliver guides Harry to one of the kitchen chairs and sits him down. "Now, you sit there and I'll make you some breakfast. It's my turn."

"Okay," Harry agrees easily. "Er... nothing greasy please," he adds as an afterthought, his stomach still not quite back to normal.

Oliver nods and busies himself in the kitchen. "My breakfast yesterday morning was delicious by the way. Thanks."

Harry smiles as he remembers making the other boy breakfast in bed. "No problem, it was my pleasure."

Oliver glances at him. "You're awfully cheery this morning. What happened yesterday?"

Harry shrugs with a smile. "Nothing. Well nothing that I can remember anyway." He pauses, frowning slightly. "I can't even remember why I _started_ drinking..."

"Did you go to work yesterday?"

Harry chews his lip thoughtfully. "Possibly... I don't really remember."

Oliver pauses, dropping some butter into the hot sauce pan. "Really? That's kind of strange don't you think?"

Harry shakes his head. "I'm sure it will come back to me, my head still feels a little fuzzy."

"Do you want me to take you in to see a healer?" Oliver asks in concern.

"No, I'm fine. Really. In fact, I feel quite good this morning."

Oliver smiles, slicing some mushrooms and adding them to the sizzling pan. "I can tell."

Harry smiles then sits up suddenly. "What time is it? Am I late for work?"

"Don't worry, I called Ron this morning to pass on the message that you would be running late."

"Oh, thanks. Is Ron back at work today?"

"Yeah, first day back." Oliver slices some tomatoes and adds them to the pan. "He said his holiday was fantastic. I know he's anxious to talk to you about it."

Harry smiles. He'd missed his ginger-haired friend. "Did he meet anyone while he was abroad?"

Oliver laughs. "That's the first thing I asked too. And no, he didn't."

"That's too bad," Harry sighs, he really wanted his friend to find someone. He knew Ron was having difficulty with Hermione's engagement to Viktor. Even though their break-up was fairly amicable, it was still hard for him to see her marrying someone else.

"Mmhm..." Oliver voices his agreement as he butters some multi-grain toast.

Harry slumps over the table, resting his chin on folded arms, watching Oliver put his breakfast onto a plate. Harry's eyes slide to Oliver's nicely rounded back-side. Why had he never noticed what a nice arse his boyfriend had before?

"Here you go," Oliver smiles as he sets the full plate down in front of Harry with a glass of milk.

"Thanks," Harry smiles up at him.

Oliver sits across from him and they're soon both quiet as they dig into the deliciously warm food.

Harry cleans his plate, his stomach already feeling a bit more settled now that he'd had some food. He stands and takes his empty plate along with Oliver's to the sink and gently places them in.

"How much time do I have?" he asks Oliver.

"We should probably leave in about...fifteen minutes."

Harry moves back over to Oliver still seated at the kitchen table and promptly straddles his lap. "Perfect."

Oliver's eyes widen in shock as Harry's arms slowly slide around his neck and the smirking brunette leans in to give him a kiss. His surprise instantly turns to pleasure though as he returns the arousing kiss. Oliver's hands make their way around Harry's back, pulling him close.

Harry moans quietly and thrusts his hips against him.

Oliver moans into the kiss then pulls away breathlessly, turning his attention to Harry's enticing throat.

Harry tilts his head back, eyes closed, as Oliver's warm lips make their way down his throat and back up again.

Harry stands and lies back on the kitchen table, pulling Oliver down on top of him.

They continue to kiss heatedly, Harry's arms wrapping around Oliver's back, hips involuntarily thrusting up against the other boy.

Oliver moans and pulls back, panting. "You're going to be late..."

"Don't care," Harry pants, trying to kiss him again. "Want you."

Oliver closes his eyes bracingly for a moment. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Harry nods, hooking one leg around Oliver's hips and pulling his boyfriend's pelvis down into him firmly.

Oliver gasps, feeling Harry's hard length against his own. "But..." he protests weakly. "I don't want our first time to be rushed - and on the kitchen table."

Harry smiles reluctantly. "Yeah alright," he agrees, removing his arms from around Oliver.

Oliver stands and helps Harry to his feet. He gives him a quick kiss on the lips. "Rain cheque?" he asks.

"Deal." Harry nods with a smile then heads off to his bedroom to change into clean clothes for work.

Oliver shifts uncomfortably, his trousers too tight thanks to his suddenly horny boyfriend.

Oliver holds open the door as Harry quickly throws on his cloak and hurries over.

"Thanks," Harry smiles and they both disapparate from the hall straight to Diagon Alley.

"I'm perfectly able to make it to work on my own you know," Harry says as they head towards muggle London. He entwines his fingers with Oliver's despite the protest.

Oliver smiles and clasps Harry's hand in return. "I know, but I have nothing better to do. Plus I'm off on the road tomorrow for three games."

"So you need to fill your Harry quota before you leave?" Harry quips with a smile.

Oliver laughs as the two emerge into London's busy city streets. "Exactly. Especially this new incredibly happy and cuddly Harry."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "I am _not_ cuddly."

Oliver lifts their joined hands with a smirk.

Harry laughs. "Alright, point taken."

They arrive at the public toilets and Harry turns to give Oliver a chaste kiss on the lips. "See you at the game tonight," he says.

Oliver smiles and touches Harry's cheek briefly before turning to leave.

Harry smiles as he enters one of the stalls and flushes himself into the Ministry of Magic. He immediately pops out into the large Atrium and makes his way to his office.

Harry closes the door behind him and studies his cluttered workspace with a frown. He hangs his cloak up on the brass hook and gets to work; throwing out all the old coffee cups and scrap pieces of parchment, tidying his folders into neat piles and then properly filing them away into the metal cabinet beside the door. He picks up the crumpled Daily Prophet from off of the floor in the corner and dumps it into the bin without even looking at it.

"Harry?"

Harry turns to see Ron poking his head through the door.

"Ron," Harry smiles and beckons him inside. "Good to see you mate."

Ron grins and enters. He whistles as he looks around Harry's impeccable office. "Wow... what happened here? Did Vantas ask you to clean up?"

Harry laughs. "Nope, I just felt it was time for a little order around here. How was your trip?"

Ron flops down into the wooden chair facing Harry's desk. "Great, Spain was awesome. I didn't want to leave."

Harry smiles as he perches on the edge of his desk. "So... any interesting women there?"

Ron grins. "Loads, and they're all bloody gorgeous!"

"And...?"

"You're worse than a female!"

"It's the gay in me," Harry smirks. "Now spill."

Ron laughs and holds up his hands in defeat. "Alright alright. There isn't much to tell, lots of lovely ladies but no one special."

"Hmm..." Harry nods in sympathy. "Oh well, you're too young to settle for one woman yet anyway."

"You're one to talk, you and Oliver are practically married."

Harry feels a strange stabbing in his gut at Ron's words. "We've only been together for a few months, that's hardly married. We don't even live together."

"You alright mate? You're looking a little peaky," Ron notices in concern.

Harry smiles, trying to shake the strange lingering feeling. "I'm fine, just had a big night last night. Apparently. Don't remember a thing."

Ron flashes one of his lop-sided grins. "Really? What's the occasion?"

"No occasion that I know of," Harry replies, feeling slightly ridiculous. He'd never been so drunk that he couldn't remember anything that happened, especially what happened leading _up_ to the drinking.

"You really don't remember anything?" Ron asks, raising his brows.

Harry shakes his head with a small smile. He wanted to get off the subject of his mysterious binge drinking. "So, you interested in a little quidditch tonight?"

Ron's face brightens, eyes going wide. "Really? Of course!"

Harry smiles at his friend's enthusiasm. "We can head over to the stadium straight after work if you want."

"Have I told you how glad I am that you're dating Oliver Wood?"

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. "Yes, countless times."

"Well I am," Ron grins as he stands, stretching his back. "I'd better get to work, there's quite the back-log since I've been away for three weeks."

Harry nods and follows Ron to the door. "I'll meet you in the Atrium at six."

"Great." Ron waves over his shoulder as he heads down the hall towards the Department of Magical Equipment Control.

Harry leaves his door open as he turns and opens the top drawer of his filing cabinet. He reaches in and plucks out one of the files, settling down at his desk with it and opening it to the first page.

Harry rubs at his eyes as he glances at the clock. His eyes widen in surprise as he sees the time. He'd been so engrossed in his work all day that he hadn't even noticed that it was already time to go. He closes the file on the mysterious fires in Chipping Clodbury and leaves it waiting on his desk for the next day.

Harry grabs his cloak and heads off to meet Ron.

Harry cheers madly with the rest of the crowd as Puddlemere United catch the snitch and win the game, officially thrashing the Montrose Magpies. Ron is yelling and jumping up and down beside him while Harry gives Oliver the thumbs up as his boyfriend flies past on his broom.

They wait for the majority of the crowd to disperse before making their way out of the stands towards the changing rooms to wait.

"Hey," Harry smiles warmly as Oliver emerges from United's changing rooms; freshly showered and dressed casually in jeans and a navy blue jumper.

Harry walks over and gives him a congratulatory kiss on the lips. Oliver smiles into the kiss and wraps his arms around him.

"Geez Harry," Ron groans, walking up behind the couple. "Way to give the Daily Prophet a mushy photo for tomorrow's front page."

Harry smiles against Oliver's lips and gives him another quick kiss. Oliver smiles down at him, holding him close.

"Can we please go to the pub now?" Ron whines impatiently.

"Alright Weasley," Oliver grins, releasing Harry but keeping ahold of his hand. "Lead the way."

"Which one's your favourite pub again Harry?" Ron asks.

"You mean that muggle one in London?"

"Yeah."

"Twelve Bar Club," Harry answers. "On Denmark."

"Let's go," Ron grins and heads for the door.

The pub is already full by the time the three boys get there.

"They just don't have good pubs in Spain," Ron shouts over his shoulder as they file through to the bar. "Crap beer too."

Harry smiles but the smell of alcohol is having a bit of an adverse effect on him. His stomach heaves a little as he stands next to the wooden bar, looking at all the shining bottles of liquor.

"You alright?" Oliver says into his ear, standing behind him.

Harry swallows. "Yeah, I think I'll just have a gingerale or something."

Oliver nods in understanding and steps up to order a pint for himself and a large gingerale for Harry.

The three push their way through the crowd of standing patrons to a little table in the back.

"That was an amazing game," Ron gushes loudly to be heard over the chatter around them.

Harry and Oliver sit on the plush bar stools across from him with their drinks.

"Thanks," Oliver smiles in response. "The Magpies have had an awesome season so I was pleasantly surprised with the win tonight."

"I thought they looked tired," Harry says, taking a sip of his drink. "Not that you couldn't beat them in their prime," he amends quickly.

Oliver chuckles and nudges Harry's shoulder with his own. "Thanks for the support," he replies sarcastically.

Harry merely grins.

"I still think you should have gone professional Harry," Ron says, wiping the beer foam from his upper lip.

Harry wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. "Nah, it's fun but not what I want to do for a living. I like being an Auror."

"And you're damn good at it too," Oliver says with pride.

Harry blushes and shrugs. "Only because I've been practicing since I was eleven."

"When are they gonna promote you Harry?" Oliver asks with a sly smile.

"I don't want to be promoted, I don't want to be in charge of other people. I like it just fine where I am."

"Yeah, but you'd get paid more and wouldn't have to put your life in danger as much," Ron points out.

Oliver frowns. "Yeah, I'd feel a lot better with you stuck behind a desk rather than in the field."

Harry grimaces. "No thanks, I'd be bored stiff. I'm behind a desk too much as it is. Not enough evil out there these days."

Ron snorts and takes a gulp of beer. "Too true, maybe you should have let old Voldy live. It'd liven things up a bit."

Harry laughs and stirs the little red straw in his drink, making the ice cubes chink against the side of the glass.

"How are things at work?" Oliver asks. "You don't talk about it much."

Harry shrugs. "Not much to tell really. Still tracking a couple outstanding Death Eaters, but most of the time it's just cases of illegal magic or witches and wizards thinking they should be continuing on Voldemort's cause. They're never any real threat though."

Oliver drains his glass and thunks it down on the table.

"Another?" Ron asks him, standing and pushing aside his own empty pint.

"Yeah thanks," Oliver accepts. He throws an arm about Harry's shoulders. "Harry's the designated apparater tonight," he grins, ruffling the messy black hair.

"Great." Harry rolls his eyes with a smile.

Ron heads off to the bar.

"You sure you don't mind?" Oliver whispers into Harry's ear.

"Not at all, it's my turn to take care of the messy drunk tonight isn't it?"

Oliver laughs and gives him a peck on the cheek.

**...**

Harry opens the door to his flat and struggles through as Oliver holds onto his waist, kissing the back of his neck and sending pleasant little shivers down his spine.

Harry kicks the door shut and turns in Oliver's arms, smiling up at him.

Oliver leans down and kisses him soundly on the mouth.

Harry instantly pulls away in disgust. "Ugh you taste like Guinness!"

Oliver laughs and Harry turns his head away.

"Stop! Stop! I'm gonna be sick!" Harry protests in amusement as he tries to get away.

Oliver's grip loosens as he laughs and falls back against the door.

Harry scrambles away, laughing and stumbling. "I'm going to bed," he announces.

Oliver stands and heads to the fridge for a glass of water. "I don't think I can sleep yet, I'm gonna watch some telly for a bit."

"Okay." Harry waves him off with a smile as he heads down the hall to his bedroom.

He removes all his clothes except for his boxers and crawls into bed. He settles into the thick blankets and lays his head down on his pillow with a contented smile. For the first time in over a year, Harry instantly drifts off into a deep peaceful sleep.

Oliver jolts awake suddenly in confusion. He glances around, noticing that he'd fallen asleep on the couch with the television on.

A loud pounding on the door startles him and he jumps to his feet, grabbing his wand.

He rushes to the front door and peers through the peephole. What he sees makes his heart stop and his face pale.

_It can't be..._

He slowly opens the door a crack and looks out. "Who are you?" he demands.

Narrowed grey eyes stare back at him. "Who the fuck are you?"

Oliver glares, raising his wand threateningly. "I should be asking you the same. Why are you disguised as Draco Malfoy?"

The glaring silver eyes flash dangerously. "I _am_ Draco Malfoy."

"Impossible, Draco Malfoy is dead."

Oliver jumps as a wand is suddenly lifted and pointed at his throat.

"I don't believe I am," he says coolly. "Now tell me where Harry Potter is."

"I'm not telling you that," Oliver says firmly. "I don't care who you say you are."

Oliver can see the muscles clenching in the blond's jaw, eyes still glaring daggers at him.

"I recognize you," Draco finally says with a steely edge to his voice. "You went to Hogwarts."

"A lot of people recognize me."

"Famous are you?" he sneers.

Oliver frowns, a feeling of foreboding crawling up his spine. "Look, it's a bit late for this sort of carrying on..."

Draco shoves his foot in the door as Oliver attempts to close it. "I am not leaving until I see him. I know he lives here. Now get the fuck out of my way!"

"Oliver?"

Oliver nearly groans aloud as Harry's quiet voice permeates the hall from behind him.

Draco's eyes widen in recognition. "Expelliarmus!"

Oliver stumbles backwards as his wand flies out of his hand and is deftly caught by Draco.

The blond takes advantage of Oliver's momentary distraction to shove the door open and push his way inside.

"Petrificus totalis!"

Draco's eyes widen as his body freezes and he begins to fall to the floor. Oliver catches him before he can hit the ground.

Harry rushes over and glances up and down the outer hallway before shutting the door.

"Bring him in here," he instructs, indicating the lounge room.

Harry snaps up the two wands from the floor and follows Oliver as he carries Draco's immobile form to the other room and lays him on the floor.

"You alright?" he asks Oliver in concern, handing him back his wand.

Oliver nods, watching Harry carefully.

Harry points his wand at Malfoy and mutters a spell. Ropes fly out the end of his wand and quickly bind Draco's arms and legs together, then he releases the petrifying spell.

Draco comes back to life, eyes immediately seeking Harry out.

"Harry-"

"Who are you?" Harry demands, wand still aimed at Draco's chest, eyes narrowed.

"It's me Harry," Draco answers, eyes glued to the brunette intently.

Oliver immediately notices the change in the Slytherin's demeanor now that he is speaking to Harry; his expression is softer, yet desperately urgent as well.

Harry frowns suspiciously. "I don't know you. Who are you?"

Oliver glances back to Harry as Draco frowns.

"What do you mean you don't know me?" Draco says in confusion. "It's me Harry, it's Draco."

Harry's eyes only narrow further. "I don't know any Draco's."

"Harry..." Draco says in shock. His eyes quickly flick to Oliver. "What's wrong with him?" he demands.

Oliver ignores him and looks to his boyfriend. "Harry, maybe you should try a revealing spell, see if we can find out who this really is."

"What do you mean?" Harry asks, green eyes darting to Oliver.

"Well, as Draco Malfoy is dead, perhaps we can flush out the imposter."

"Do you know him?" Harry says in surprise.

Oliver frowns and moves closer to Harry. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about this strange blond man tied up in my lounge room!" Harry exclaims in frustration.

Oliver bites his lip, gazing into Harry's confused eyes. "Harry, who is Draco Malfoy?"

Harry frowns then turns to look at Draco, emerald eyes taking in the pale skin, white blond hair and grey eyes.

"I've never seen or heard of him before in my life," Harry finally answers, turning back to Oliver.

"Fucking untie me!" Draco shouts in response from the floor, struggling in the rough rope bindings. "Now!"

"Harry, this man has been dead for almost two years so someone is pretending to be him," Oliver explains with a slight frown.

"I am _not_ dead!" Draco yells furiously.

"Why are you here?" Harry demands, kneeling down next to Draco, wand pointed at his throat.

Draco's furious expression immediately vanishes as Harry leans over him. "Harry... god I've missed you," he breathes.

Harry quickly shifts back, eyes widening. The stranger's voice is so loving and intimate, as if he'd known him for years...

Harry frowns and lifts his wand again. "Answer me, why are you here?"

"I'm here to see you, you stupid twat!" Draco replies in frustration. "Listen to me, I've been in Iceland. Mum sent me away before the war - _without_ my consent - so that I would be safe, only she was the only one who knew where I was. When my parents were killed in the attack I was left without a wand, without a clue of where I was, and with no one around to help me. I was locked in a safe house with only a bloody house elf for company."

"During the war? But that was ages ago..."

"I know," Draco replies. "There was a charm on the cottage that would release me if anything were to happen to the house elf, otherwise I was basically imprisoned for life. Once she was gone I was able to leave."

"Gone?" Harry repeats suspiciously.

Draco swallows. "Look, it was either kill her or live out the rest of my life in a fucking cottage in the middle of an Icelandic fishing village. I tried to think of an alternative, I did, but after months of trying to think of one I had no other choice!"

"You can't just go around killing innocent people!" Harry exclaims horrified.

"People?" Draco snorts and Harry's eyes widen in outrage. "Sorry, I didn't mean that Potter. I know how you get."

"Stop saying that!" Harry says, getting to his feet, wand still trained on him. "You don't know me."

Pain flashes across the blond's face at Harry's words and he falls silent.

"I'm gonna call Vantas, see if we can take him into Ministry custody," Harry finally decides.

"Wait Harry," Oliver says as Harry turns to walk out of the room. "Can I speak with you for a minute? In private?"

Harry nods. "Petrificus totalis!" he casts the freezing spell on Draco once more before leaving the room to speak with Oliver.

"Harry, listen to me," Oliver says earnestly once they're safely out of ear shot of Draco. "I don't think you want to do that."

"Why?" Harry frowns.

"Because..." Oliver trails off uncertainly. "Because you _do_ know that man and he hasn't done anything wrong."

"Except for murdering a house elf and breaking into my home," Harry replies darkly.

"Yes, well, I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same," Oliver says honestly. "He had no clue as to what was happening to his family and friends, it must have been driving him mad. I'm surprised he lasted nearly two years."

Harry sighs, running one hand through his sleep-tousled hair and glancing back towards the lounge room. "I don't understand why you both think I know him. I've never seen him before in my life." Harry pauses, frowning in concentration. "Maybe he's confounded you."

Oliver shakes his head slowly. "No, you know him. I don't know what's going on but... if that is the real Draco Malfoy, then you most certainly have a history with that man.

"What do you mean?"

Oliver sighs, looking away.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks.

Oliver returns his troubled gaze to Harry's face. "You... dated him for awhile."

Harry's eyes widen in surprise. "What? How can I not remember that?"

"I don't know..."

Harry begins to pace the length of the kitchen. "Alright, what do I do with him then?"

"Just let him go I suppose," Oliver shrugs.

Harry pauses mid-stride, glancing back over his shoulder. "Were his parents really murdered?"

Oliver nods. "They were killed in an attack on his house, and he was believed to have been inside as well."

Harry's expression softens. "Maybe I should talk to him..."

Oliver opens his mouth to protest then closes it again.

"Don't worry," Harry smiles, watching him. "I'm not going to run off with him."

Oliver gives a shaky smile. "Not two days ago you would have," mutters.

"Sorry?"

Oliver shakes his head. "Nothing. Do you want me to stay?"

Harry chews his lip. "No," he decides. "I'll be fine. I am an Auror after all."

Oliver nods reluctantly. "Okay, just yell if you need me. I'll be in bed, pretending to sleep."

Harry smiles and gives him a quick hug. Oliver places a kiss to his temple, closing his eyes a moment, not wanting to let go.

"I'll be in soon," Harry promises, pulling back and looking him in the eye.

Oliver nods, not trusting himself to speak, then heads down the hall.

Harry grips his wand and walks back into the lounge.

"Finite incantatem," he casts quietly.

The ropes disappear from around Draco's wrists and ankles, and he is able to move again.

Draco turns over on his side, rubbing his wrists and looking up at Harry uncertainly.

Harry sits on the couch, keeping his wand in plain view atop his knee.

Draco cautiously sits up, facing towards him. "Do you really not remember me Harry?" he asks quietly.

Harry tilts his head, gazing at him as though trying to work something out. He slowly shakes his head.

Draco makes to stand and Harry quickly lifts his wand. "Don't move. Please."

Draco's breath hitches as Harry stares at him as though seeing a potentially dangerous stranger.

"Harry... what happened to you?" he asks with unmistakable sadness.

Harry lowers his wand, the pain is so evident in this man's voice and expression. "Did you go to Hogwarts?" Harry asks curiously.

Draco frowns and sits back. "Yes, we were in the same year. We played quidditch against... _Fuck_ Harry, why don't you remember me?" he exclaims in frustration.

Harry startles and his grip tightens on his wand convulsively.

"Do you remember the quidditch game back at Hogwarts when the bludger had been tampered with and continually chased you?" Draco suddenly presses desperately.

Harry nods, remembering it well.

"Well, who was playing against you?"

"Slytherin," Harry answers with a frown.

"Yes, and who was Slytherin's seeker?" Draco pushes intently.

Harry opens his mouth then pauses, his frown deepening. His memory is fuzzy round the edges, everything is in perfect clarity except for the seeker wearing the green Slytherin robes. He concentrates harder, trying to pierce the filmy veil in his mind...

"Ow...!" Harry hisses in pain and suddenly clutches at his head, eyes shut tight.

"Harry!" Draco stands in concern.

"Stop!" Harry cracks open one eye and raises his wand, one hand still clutching at his aching head. It was as if he had been attacked by a sudden and fierce migraine - not so different from the attacks of pain in his scar when Voldemort was near. This last thought frightens him.

Draco hesitates, desperately wanting to go to Harry and hold him, his heart aching with the desire.

"I think you should leave," Harry says shakily.

Draco swallows. "Harry, I think someone has altered your memory."

Harry releases his pounding head and sits up. "Do you have somewhere to go?" he asks, ignoring him.

Draco's heart pounds and his pulse weakens. "Harry, please... I can't leave. Not like this. We need to find out who has done this to you and why."

Harry frowns and stands, starting to get angry. "There's nothing wrong with me! I have a life, I have a great job, my own flat and a boyfriend who loves me."

Draco looks as though he's been slapped. "W-who?"

"Oliver Wood," Harry responds, glancing at the entrance to the kitchen as though expecting to see him there.

Draco swallows convulsively. "Of course," he says weakly, now remembering the other boy from their Hogwarts days. He had naively assumed that Oliver was merely a roommate, not Harry's lover. "And you... love him?"

Harry wants to say yes, he wants to lie to this stranger if just to make him go away, but somehow he can't seem to force the words past his lips.

Draco watches him closely, a strange gleam coming into his eyes as Harry struggles to respond.

"That's none of your business Mr Malfoy," Harry finally answers sternly.

"Alright Harry," Draco says into the silence that follows. "I'll leave, but I'll be back."

Harry frowns. "Look, I'll help you if you need it but... but that's all. I'm sorry if you think we were friends or... or whatever in school but I don't remember you and I don't know that I want to. You don't seem like someone I would've been friends with."

"We _were_ friends Harry," Draco says quietly. "We were much more than friends in fact. You loved me, and I loved- _love_ you, very much."

Harry opens his mouth to speak then stops. He doesn't know quite what to say to that.

"It's late so I'll go," Draco finally says, the exhaustion evident around his eyes. "Can I please see you again tomorrow?"

Harry unglues his throat. "I don't think that's such a good idea- "

"It's just that I need some help," Draco quickly interrupts. "I find that I don't have many people to turn to now."

Harry softens, remembering how the blond's parents had been killed. He was all too familiar with that particular feeling of loneliness. "Alright," he relents. "Meet me at the Ministry of Magic at nine am. Just ask for me in the Auror's department."

Draco smiles softly. "I heard that you became an Auror, I knew you would do it. Congratulations."

"Er yeah..." Harry smiles a little uncertainly in return and stands. "Do you mind if I run a few tests on you before I return your wand? Oliver seems to think that you're not who you say you are."

Draco nods, standing stiffly with his eyes on Harry's face, hands clenching and unclenching at his side. He is desperately fighting the impulse to reach out and draw Harry into his arms as the brunette draws near; wanting to kiss those soft full lips that he'd been dreaming about for so long, to undress him slowly and run his hands over that body, as familiar to him as his own.

Harry mutters a few powerful revealing spells in succesion, unaware of the effect his close proximity is having on Draco. Harry uses all of his Auror training to try to break through any potential glamours but the blond's appearance does not alter.

Harry finally nods, satisfied. He holds out Draco's wand for him to take.

Draco grasps it and slips it into his pocket, trying to get a handle on his turbulent emotions. "Thankyou."

Harry nods and leads him to the front door, his hand still clutching his own wand tightly.

Draco turns to look at Harry. It really hits him hard in that moment that after almost two years of fighting to get back to Harry - wondering if he was even still alive - and he still might lose him. "Harry..."

Harry blinks in surprise as tears fill the stranger's silvery grey eyes.

Draco feels a stab in his chest at the lack of recognition in Harry's wide eyes. He turns and leaves before Harry can utter another word.

Harry watches in confusion as Draco suddenly and swiftly exits the flat. He slowly shuts the door and leans back against it. The ache in his head has all but disappeared and he is left with a strange feeling of bewilderment and intense confusion.

What Oliver said about him dating that stranger just didn't make sense, how could he not know someone he went out with? And was the blond right, had Harry loved him at one time? Had someone erased the man's very existence from Harry's memory? And if so, why?

Harry locks the door and shakes his head. He quickly places a few strong wards on the door before heading for his bedroom. He'd never been in love, he was sure of it. He cared a great deal for Oliver but he wasn't _'in love'_ with him. Not yet anyway.

Harry opens the door to his room. Oliver is standing by the window, looking out at the moonlit city with a concentrated frown. Oliver turns to look at him questioningly as he enters.

Harry smiles and a look of relief crosses Oliver's face. Harry walks over and puts his arms around his boyfriend and Oliver holds him tight.

Harry closes his eyes and rests his head against Oliver's broad chest, releasing a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. Everything suddenly made sense again.

"Let's go to bed," Oliver says, placing a kiss to the top of his head.

Harry nods with a smile and allows himself to be pulled back over to his large four poster bed. He tosses his t-shirt aside and places his wand back on the nightstand before snuggling in under the covers with Oliver's arm protectively wrapped around him.


	4. Who Do You Think You Are?

**Leaving Scars**

_Chapter Four: Who Do You Think You Are?_

"Maybe I should be staying here."

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his thick dark hair, trying to remain calm. "Oliver look, you said yourself he's been rendered an orphan, he's got no one else to help him."

Oliver snorts and rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. "No, he just wants _you_ to help him."

Harry feels a flicker of annoyance. "If what you've said is true and he really was a friend of mine, then why shouldn't I help him?"

"Because he was more than just a friend Harry, why don't you understand that? Not to mention the fact that he's a Slytherin, of course he's going to try and win you back!"

Harry takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. "Look, I'm not some prize to be won. I have a mind all my own, so give me just a little credit alright? I'm only helping him get back on his feet and that's it. I have connections at the Ministry that can assist him. I won't see him again after today."

Oliver sighs and drops his arms back down to his sides, defeated. "Yeah I know. Sorry, I just... worry."

Harry feels his annoyance drain away and he walks over to look his boyfriend firmly in the eye. "You know I care about you right? You know I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you. I don't have any memory of this man, I have no feelings towards him whatsoever."

Oliver meets his gaze. "Are you going to try to find out who erased your memory?"

Harry frowns and looks away. "I... don't know." He returns his gaze to Oliver's worried brown eyes. "I want to find out who did it and why, but... I don't know what will happen if I get my memories back. At the moment I don't feel as though anything is missing, but then, when Mr Malfoy asked about a particular event I couldn't remember it at all. It was like there was a white film over the image in my mind, and when I tried to break through it I was attacked with a really painful migraine."

Oliver's brow creases in concern. "Harry..." He stops and shakes his head, looking away.

Harry finally smiles. "You know, I never took you for the jealous type."

Oliver smiles reluctantly, returning his gaze to Harry's teasing expression. "I'm not jealous, just... protective of what's mine."

"And I _am_ yours," Harry replies firmly, taking his hand. "Don't forget that."

Oliver nods and draws Harry into his arms, holding him close.

"Have a good trip," Harry murmurs into his neck. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Promise?"

Harry chuckles and nods. "Promise."

Oliver gives him a quick peck on the cheek then smiles in goodbye as he hefts his duffel bag off of the floor and onto his shoulder.

Harry smiles as Oliver leaves, shutting the door to the flat with a soft click behind him. He then wanders off to grab his cloak and boots for work. As he's clasping the thick black cloak around his shoulders, he can't help but think back on last night. He again tries to place the blond man from past memories - and comes up empty. That silvery blond hair, pale skin and aristocratic bone structure was very striking and should have been easily recognizable...

Harry immediately diverts his attention away from the man's handsome looks, knowing that _that_ was a path that he would not allow himself to go down. He was not blind, he knew that Mr Malfoy was incredibly good looking, but it was the cool and distant appeal of a model. He could not imagine himself ever having had a loving and intimate relationship with him.

Harry pauses consideringly. _Had he ever slept with him?_

Harry shakes his head. It was all so confusing. As far as he knew he was a virgin, but perhaps the only memory of ever making love with another man had been erased? He suddenly felt a red-hot anger build within his chest. How dare someone erase his memories! Not to mention the fact that he was an Auror and could not afford to have his mind tampered with, even when those memories appeared to have little consequence to his professional life.

Harry stops, one hand on the door handle. Or perhaps the blond man himself had erased his memory in a desperate act to hide something incriminating? He wasn't above murdering an innocent house elf so what else was he capable of?

He makes up his mind to investigate the matter further, perhaps getting someone from his office to help. He needed to find out who took his memories and why, that was the first step, and then he could decide on a course of action from there.

Harry hurries to work, mind working over a million different thoughts and possible courses of action. The first thing the Ministry would want to do is administer Veritaserum to verify Mr Malfoy's identity, and while under the influence, Harry would throw in a few questions of his own.

There is an early morning chill in the air as Harry strides towards the Ministry of Magic, his chin tucked downwards towards his chest and shoulders hunched against the cold.

"Harry! Hey Harry!"

Harry looks up in confusion and spots a tall blond making his way over to him with a smile on his face. Harry stops walking and shoves his hands in his pockets, watching Draco's approach.

"That imbelcilic phone booth won't let me in," Draco drawls. "Seems to think I don't exist and should not be allowed access to the Ministry."

Harry forces a small smile, feeling awkward. He clears his throat and indicates that Draco should follow him. "I'll just bring you in as my guest."

Draco falls into step beside him, shooting furtive glances his way every few steps. "It's really good to see you Harry," he says quietly. "Thanks for helping me today. I really didn't know who else to turn to."

Harry feels his awkwardness thaw a little as he meets those soft grey eyes. "No problem. My parents were killed too, so I kind of know how you feel. It must be a hundred times worse to lose your parents at this age though. I didn't even know mine and I still feel their absence."

Draco nods, slipping his hands into his cloak pockets and swallowing. "Yeah, it was a bit of a shock. I knew something must have happened, but I... I never expected this."

Harry can see the blond fighting to reign in his emotions and doesn't ask any further questions.

Harry leads Draco into the large red phone booth and shuts the door. He orders a guest pass for Draco and they immediately drop into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

Draco follows along behind Harry, looking around him with interest - and a little trepidation. He wasn't sure of the reception he would receive from the Ministry, considering who his parents had been.

Harry strides into the Auror's department with Draco at his heels.

"Good morning Mr Potter," the young witch greets him from the reception area with a pleasant smile. Her clear blue eyes slide to Draco and one brow arches appreciatively.

Harry can't help but roll his eyes. "Good morning Tanya," he replies. "Could you please inform Kingsley, Vantas and Jurak that I will be requiring their assistance in the interrogation room in about fifteen minutes?"

Tanya nods, her gaze turning curious as she glances at Draco once more before leaving.

"This way," Harry says to Draco, indicating that he should lead the way down the corridor to their left.

Draco nods and strides through the long hallway, glancing into the numerous offices as they pass. Most of the small rooms are occupied by intimidating looking witches and wizards, hunched over desks or pacing their small offices. He glances back to Harry to find the brunette watching him closely.

"Looks like stressful work," Draco observes, turning his head back around to the front.

Harry snorts softly through his nose. "Yeah, it is. But it's challenging."

"And you love a challenge," Draco mutters to himself.

Harry catches the quietly uttered comment and firmly presses his lips together, refraining from comment. He hated it when the stranger slipped in little observations about his personality, it made him feel distinctly off-balance.

"Just in here." Harry stops outside a black door to their right and pushes it open.

Draco steps through the doorway and looks around. The room is painted a dark grey; dark grey walls, floor and ceiling. In the centre of the room is a single metal chair with straps hanging from the arm rests, a small metal table, and a locked cupboard in the far corner.

"I sit here I presume?" Draco asks, indicating the intimidating steel chair.

Harry nods. "We don't have to use the straps though."

"Unless I provoke you," Draco smirks, reclining delicately in the cool hard seat.

Harry ignores him and strides over to the small cabinet. He opens the doors and grasps a vial of powerful truth serum, the colourless liquid in the glass tube shining innocently under the lights.

Draco looks at the tiny vial with approval. "Good, we can finally clear this whole mess up."

Harry unstoppers the vial and removes the dropper. He walks over to Draco and administers three drops onto the Slytherin's willing tongue.

Harry allows a few minutes for the Veritaserum to take effect as he places the vial back into the cabinet and firmly shuts the door. He finally turns and walks over to the chair, standing in front of Draco with arms crossed over his chest. He observes the tell-tale dilation of the blond's pupils with satisfaction, indicating that the Veritaserum had worked its way into his system.

"What colour is your hair?" Harry asks.

"White blond," Draco replies instantly.

"What house were you a part of in Hogwarts?" Harry continues, shooting questions off as fast as he can think of them.

"Slytherin."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-two."

"What is your full name?'

"Draco Lucius Malfoy."

"Where have you been for the past eighteen months?"

"Siglufjorour, Iceland."

"And were you imprisoned there against your will?"

"Yes."

"Did you kill a house elf to escape?"

"Yes."

"Was that the _only_ way to escape?"

"Yes."

Harry pauses then turns to shut the door to the interrogation room. He spins back around and fixes Draco with an intense stare.

"Did you alter my memory in any way?"

Draco looks surprised by the question as he automatically opens his mouth to answer. "No."

Harry swallows and steels himself for the next question. "Were you ever in a romantic relationship with me?"

"Yes." Draco answers, grey eyes matching Harry's intensity.

"Did we..." Harry stops and takes a deep breath. "Did we have sex?"

"Yes."

Harry feels his heart jump and a strange sick feeling growing in his stomach. "Did I ever tell you that I loved you?" he presses on.

"Yes."

"Did you love me?"

"Yes. I still do."

Harry abruptly turns away and exhales shakily, closing his eyes against the onslaught of emotions. He would not allow himself to lose it here at work nor in front of this stranger.

"Harry..." Draco rises and reaches one hand out towards him uncertainly.

Harry turns and looks into the warm eyes watching him with concern. No matter how much he tried to deny it, there was love there. There was a past there that he should've been connected to and should've been a part of. For the first time he feels as though he _is_ missing a part of himself. Harry's gaze drops to the pro-offered hand; a hand that had touched him more intimately than any other...

Harry shakes his head angrily. "Sit down," he orders sharply. "I'll be right back."

Harry swiftly exits the room into the hall and pulls the door shut behind him. He leans back against it, breathing heavily, eyes closed. He suddenly feels as though he's in way over his head. Oliver was right, helping Mr Malfoy was a bad idea. Even though he had no recollection of their past relationship, it was obvious that just being with the man was affecting his judgement. To have someone tell you that they loved you with such depth and sincerity when they were a virtual stranger was having a strange effect on him. To know that he had been intimate with that stranger behind the closed door and had absolutely no recollection of it was almost more than he could bear...

"Harry?"

Harry opens his eyes and looks up to see the Minister of Magic striding up the hallway towards him.

"You alright there Harry?" Kingsley asks with a concerned frown, coming to a stop beside him, dark purple robes swirling about his large frame.

Harry swallows and straightens. "Yeah, I'm fine. Didn't... didn't sleep well last night is all. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

Kingsley nods, his face relaxing into a friendly smile. "Of course. What's going on?" His eyes flick to the closed door of the interrogation room. "Who's in there?"

Harry opens his mouth to answer just as his supervisor, Joseph Vantas, and head Auror, Jurak, arrive on the scene.

Kingsley nods in greeting to both of them. "Good morning gentlemen, Harry here was just about to fill me in on the situation."

Harry licks his lips nervously as the three men wait for his explanation. "I have a man in the interrogation room who claims to be Draco Malfoy. I've already administered the Veritaserum and he is awaiting questioning to prove his identity. I couldn't think of any other way to legally integrate him back into society."

The other three share looks of surprise before following Harry into the small room. Vantas locks the door behind them before facing the blond boy calmly sitting in the chair, grey eyes glued to Harry.

The Minister stands back to watch the proceedings, merely there as a witness.

"Harry, do you wish to do the questioning?" Vantas asks, glancing at him over his shoulder.

"Er... no that's alright," Harry mumbles.

Vantas turns back to Draco and narrows his eyes, leaning in close to the blond's wary face. "You're either a liar or a Malfoy," he whispers menacingly. "Neither one pleases me greatly." He straightens and begins the interrogation. "What is your full name?"

Draco's furious retort is cut off by the automatic impulse to answer the question. "Draco Lucuis Malfoy."

"What are the names of your parents?"

Harry can't help but notice the flash of pain in Draco's eyes before he is forced to answer. "Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy."

"How is it you are still alive?" Vantas continues.

Draco's eyes drop to the floor as he answers in a monotone. "I was sent away by my mother before the final battle to be kept safe. I was locked in a cottage in Siglufjorour - the only known location without any witches or wizards of any kind. My mother was the only one to know of my location, and when she died unexpectedly in that attack, there was no one to help me. My mother had set it up so that a house elf was there to see to my every need, and if anything were to happen to the elf, only then would I be able to leave. I was unable to send any messages or perform magic from inside the cottage." Draco looks as though he is fighting the words at this point. "It took eighteen months, but I finally had to kill the elf so that I could return to see what had become of m-my love-d ones."

Draco stutters over the words, obviously trying to phrase the answer just so. Harry holds his breath, hoping they won't question the stumble. He had an inkling of what it was that Draco had probably been about to say.

Vantas nods and Jurak steps forward, withdrawing his wand and pointing it at Draco.

The blond's eyes widen but otherwise he does not outwardly flinch at the gesture.

Jurak casts a quick series of revealing spells, trying to remove any glamours or disguises, then goes on to make certain that Draco had not taken any potions or cast any spells that would have prevented the Veritaserum to take effect. Jurak's eyes narrow as Draco passes every test flawlessly.

Harry watches it all, half hoping that the blond _would_ be found a fake. It would be so easy to just forget the last two days, then life would return to normal and this imposter could be sent to Azkaban where Harry would never have to see him again.

Jurak lowers his wand and turns to the Minister. "He's clean."

Kingsley nods and turns to Harry. "Any last questions Harry? As a schoolmate of his, you would know him better than any of us."

Harry looks at Draco, who currently has his eyes lowered to the floor. "Mr Malfoy?"

Draco raises his eyes to Harry's face, looking guarded for the first time since entering the claustraphobic room.

"Are you sorry that you killed the house elf?" Harry asks, needing to know, needing to see the good that surely must be in this man for him to have been such an integral part of Harry's life at one time.

"No," Draco replies. "Please rephrase the question," he adds immediately.

Harry frowns then understands. "Do you feel remorse for having taken an innocent life?"

"Yes," Draco answers steadily.

Harry nods, unsure of why he feels such relief.

"Finished?" Kingsley asks Harry.

Harry nods and turns away, dragging his gaze away from Draco's penetrating stare.

"I shall leave you then," Kingsley smiles. "Harry, would you mind escorting Mr Malfoy to his solicitor and to Gringotts so that he may get his estate in order? They will need Ministry confirmation that he is indeed who he proclaims to be. I do not forsee that it will be an easy process."

Harry wants to protest but cannot think of one viable reason. He finally nods his assent.

"Welcome back Mr Malfoy," Kingsley flashes Draco a quick smile before heading out the door.

Vantas and Jurak follow along behind the Minister without so much as a final glance at the blond in the chair.

Harry sighs and looks over at Draco, who is leaning forward onto his knees with his head in hands.

"You alright?" Harry finally asks.

Draco sighs and slowly looks up. "No. My whole fucking world has been turned upside down; my parents are dead, my home has been blown to pieces, and you don't even know who the hell I am."

Harry fidgets awkwardly, feeling sorry for the lost looking man but unsure of how to comfort him without overstepping the boundaries that clearly need to be in place between them.

Draco sits up, fixing Harry with a piercing gaze. "All I've done for the past eighteen months is worry over _you_ and fight to get back to _you_ - and what the fuck for?"

Harry looks away but Draco will have none of that. He stands and places himself in front of the brunette. "We made _plans_ Harry," he continues, voice shaking with either anger or sadness, or perhaps both. "You were going to beat Voldemort and end the war, then we were going to be free - free to be together forever. Harry, you are my life, I love you more than anything, more than life itself. If I don't have you then I have nothing and I should've died along with my parents! "

Harry drags his emerald gaze back to Draco's face. He swallows, feeling a distinct lump in his throat. "I... I'm sorry."

Draco closes his eyes for a brief moment, seeming to gather himself. When they open once more there is a mask of detached coolness firmly in place. "Fine. Let's go."

Harry nods and is barely conscious of where he is going as he leads Draco back down the hall towards the Atrium. He walks as though in a daze, Draco's heartbreaking speech replaying over and over again in his over-worked mind. He felt breathless from the raw pain directed his way - and there was nothing he could do about it. He could not pretend that he felt something for the other man, he was still a stranger, perhaps not as much as he was last night, but still someone that he did not know. He did not feel comfortable with Draco, he felt on edge and unsure. Draco Malfoy seemed moody and dark, and not like a friend, and most certainly not like a lover, though he was obviously very passionate.

Harry and Draco ride the lift back up to street level and emerge into a slightly sunnier day than the one they had left behind that morning.

Draco turns to him quickly. "Why don't you just write a letter for me to take on your behalf? I know you don't want to come along."

Harry hesitates, wanting to take him up on the offer. "I shouldn't. There may be complications and it would be best if I'm there. They probably wouldn't accept a letter anyway."

Draco shrugs indifferently. "Shall we Apparate then?"

Harry nods and they walk into a nearby alleyway so that they can Apparate discreetly. Caught off-guard by the sudden contact, Harry's breath catches in his throat as Draco grasps his arm in preperation. Draco's hand is warm on his sleeve, the heat penetrating through to his skin.

Draco glances at him a moment before Apparating the two of them away to his solicitor's office.

******

"Ah, Mr Malfoy _do_ have a seat. What a great _pleasure_ it is to have you back!"

Harry wrinkles his nose at the solicitor's oily voice and smarmy air. It hadn't taken him long to convince the solicitor that Draco was indeed the surviving heir to the Malfoy Estate. The man must have been only too happy to be back in the service of such a rich and noble family once more.

"Thank-you Mr Wicken," Draco replies with a curt nod, seating himself in front of the large mahogany desk, his cloak slung over one arm.

"Er... do you want me to wait outside?" Harry asks, hesitating.

"No, please stay," Draco replies, turning his head towards him but without raising his eyes to Harry's face.

Harry drops into the seat next to Draco, wishing that he hadn't bothered to ask and had just left the room quietly. He felt like an intruder.

"Now, Mr Malfoy," Mr Wicken begins, clasping his hands together in front of him on the green ink blotter. "It is very good that you came back when you did. All Malfoy funds and assets are still frozen in stasis, as specified by your parents if something were to happen to them. There was only another twelve months on the hold before the assets would have been released to the government, as there are no other living relatives."

Draco nods, relieved that he would not be left a pauper as he had feared. "Will I have access to those funds immediately?"

"Yes," Mr Wicken smiles his greasy smile. "As soon as you go to Gringotts to make the appropriate arrangements, then everything shall be put into your name with yourself having the only access."

"Good," Draco replies. "I plan to restore Malfoy Manor to its original state as soon as possible."

"Very good sir," Mr Wicken smiles again as he ducks down to retrieve a folder. He opens it on the desk and passes Draco some official looking documents. "These are your parents death certificates. You will need to present these to Gringotts.

Draco takes the certificates from Mr Wicken and glances at them briefly before setting them aside.

Mr Wicken peruses the document in front of him. "Now Mr Malfoy, in accordance with your own will, the items you requested have been properly distributed. You may wish to speak with said parties to reclaim those items. Although... hmm..." Mr Wicken glances up at Harry who is looking about the room and not paying attention. "It seems the only items you distributed were given to a Mr Harry Potter."

Harry's head whips around suddenly to look at the solicitor. "Huh?"

"Did you not receive these items Mr Potter?" Mr Wicken asks, glancing down at the sheet in front of him with a frown. "I have confirmation from a ... Minnerva McGonagall saying that she did indeed deliver these items to you only just recently. Is this not true?"

Harry gapes and turns to Draco. "Er..."

Draco's smile is tinged with sadness as he glances at him before turning back to Mr Wicken. "Yes, he did receive those items, and no, I will not be asking for them back. Please continue."

Mr Wicken nods in satisfaction and returns to the legalities of Draco's newfound rights, title and subsequent possessions.

Harry tunes them out as he stares unblinkingly through the large paned window behind Mr Wicken's desk. The sky is growing overcast once more, thick grey clouds rolling in across the sky. Harry tries to remember if he'd noticed anything that resembled some sort of gift, or anything that seemed out of place in his flat, but nothing came to mind.

The absolute seriousness of the situation finally settles over him like a heavy blanket. He had been in love with someone who loved him unconditionally in return. It was no longer a possibility that the blond was trying to deceive him, or that Harry was perhaps simply the victim of a jilted ex-boyfriend. Harry had been in a relationship that, for all intents and purposes, was as serious as a relationship could be. Draco had spoken of their relationship under the influence of Veritaserum, so there was no questioning the truth of their past. Draco had spoken of 'plans' that they had made together, which spoke of promises to spend the rest of their lives together.

Harry frowns. Who did he know that would erase his memory of such a thing? It was obviously an enemy who wished to strip him of any joy and happiness in his life. Was it someone who was jealous of his relationship with Mr Malfoy? Was it someone who wanted Draco for himself?

Harry could feel a tension headache building as he mulled over the many swirling questions and possibilities.

"Harry?"

Harry blinks and looks over at Draco.

"It's time to go," he says, looking at him with concern.

Harry notices then that Mr Wicken is standing and that they'd obviously said their farewells and he was just sitting there like an idiot. Harry quickly jumps to his feet, toppling his chair over backwards behind him.

"Sorry," he mutters, righting it once more with flushed cheeks.

Draco hides a smirk as Harry picks up his chair and then quickly flees the room.

"Goodbye Mr Malfoy," Mr Wicken says with a smile. "Do accept my condolences for your parent's passing. They will be greatly missed from society."

"Thankyou," Draco nods and picks up his folder of documents before turning to join Harry out in the hall.

The two leave the building together in silence, clasping their cloaks back around their shoulders to ward against the inclimate weather.

"I really don't think you need to accompany me to Gringotts," Draco says, stopping beside him on the footpath outside the tall building of Wizarding Law Offices. "Mr Wicken explained that the bank will run its own series of diagnostic tests to ensure that I'm the real deal."

"Oh... okay." Harry pauses, unsure of his own emotions. _Just say goodbye and return to work_, his mind screams at him.

"Unless... would you like to join me for lunch?" Draco asks. "As a thankyou for all your help."

Harry wavers for only a second. "Sure, why not?" he accepts.

Draco's responding smile is positively dazzling and Harry can't help but smile in return.

The two wizards stroll through Diagon Alley, looking for a suitable cafe. They finally choose 'An Educated Palate' next to Flourish and Blotts and take a seat near the window.

Draco opens his menu and scans the many varied meals under the lunch heading.

Harry fidgets with his napkin, watching him. "Listen, I want to apologize for... I'm not really sure what for. I guess I'm just sorry that things have turned out this way for you."

Draco glances up, grey eyes locking with emerald overtop of his menu.

Harry swallows and continues. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, what with losing your parents and your home-"

"And you," Draco interjects bitterly.

Harry bites his lip and quickly picks up his own menu, pretending to busily check the specials list.

Draco sighs, lowering his menu. "Thankyou. I know this must be hard on you as well. Not quite like what I'm going through, but... difficult in its own way I suppose."

Harry looks up and nods gratefully.

The two fall back into silence until the waiter appears to take their orders. Once he is gone, Harry turns to Draco once more.

"So, what are your plans now?"

Draco leans back in his chair with a sigh. "I'm going to use some of that money to restore my home to its original grandeaur, then... I'm not really sure."

Harry chews his lip, remembering what he'd said about their intended 'plans' earlier.

Draco smiles wryly. "You're trying to think of a safe subject aren't you?"

Harry breaks into a relieved smile. "Yeah. There isn't one is there?'

Draco smiles reluctantly and shakes his head.

Harry takes a sip of his water then looks back up, expression serious once more. "Do you have any idea who may have altered my memories?"

Draco's expression instantly darkens. "I've been trying to think of that myself, occupied my mind most of last night actually. Problem is we both have multiple enemies that would like to see us unhappy. I've never told a soul about us and, as far as I know, no one ever found out, so it must have come from someone that you've told. The only problem with that theory is-"

"I don't remember who I've told," Harry concludes.

"Exactly."

Harry reclines back in his chair with a sigh.

Draco suddenly leans forward, resting his arms on the tabletop. "Harry, I need to know that you're going to try to recover your memories. I'll help you every hour of every day for the rest of my life if I have to, but... I need to know you're trying. That we are still a possibility."

Harry feels his heart twist painfully. "I... That's not an easy question to answer."

"Why isn't it?"

"Because..." Harry turns away, looking out the window at the people strolling past. "Because I can't do that to Oliver."

Draco's eyes flare with anger. "Oliver? Fuck Oliver, you were with me first!"

Harry frowns and brings his disapproving green eyes back to Draco's face. "That doesn't matter anymore. I don't remember you, I don't remember _us_. All I know is that Oliver doesn't deserve to be cast aside as though he doesn't matter to me."

"But you'll cast me aside without a second thought?" Draco asks angrily.

"I don't know you!" Harry retorts in frustration. "And if I never recover my memory then that will never change!"

Harry instantly regrets his harsh tone as Draco averts his gaze, trying to hide the obvious hurt reflected there.

"I think I should go," Harry says quietly. "This was a mistake. Good luck with... with everything."

"Wait." Draco quickly places a hand overtop of Harry's.

Harry pauses, eyes flicking down to their joined hands.

"Please," Draco begs quietly. "Just promise me one thing."

Harry swallows and looks up. "What?"

"That you will look for the things I left you in my will."

Harry hesitates. "What things?"

"I left you three things, but one of them is an enchanted picture frame which will only respond to your touch. A photograph will appear when you hold it. I want you to see it."

Harry frowns and slides his hand out from under Draco's warm touch. "What's the photo of?" he asks, though he can guess.

"Us," Draco replies. "I need you to see that we were once happy together."

Harry hesitates then nods. "Alright, I'll look for it. I'd better go."

Harry swiftly stands and heads for the exit. Draco stares after the brunette long after the cafe door closes behind him.

*****

Harry makes a detour back to his flat. He still had time before they would expect him back at the office. Truth be told, he was dying to see actual physical evidence of his relationship with Mr Malfoy. It still didn't seem possible that he had at one time been in love with the man.

Harry quickly unlocks the door to his flat and shuts it behind him. He immediately notices the two letters on the kitchen table as he enters. Tossing his cloak onto the chair back, he snatches them up and tears into the first one as he wanders down the hall to his bedroom.

It's from Oliver.

_Harry,_

_I just wanted to apologize again for this morning. I __**do**__ trust you. You've just come to mean so much to me and I'm scared that I'm going to lose you._

_I miss you already._

_Love,_

_Oliver_

Harry smiles and feels his heart swell at the thought of his kind-hearted boyfriend. He was missing him too.

He opens the next letter and frowns at the cryptic message. It was from Hermione.

_Harry,_

_I'm sorry for leaving at a time like this, but I couldn't wait three months to speak with you. Just tell me one thing:_

_Are you alright?_

_If you're not, I'll come straight home to __**help**__ you..._

_With love,_

_Hermione._

_P.S - the owl will know where to find me.  
><em>

Harry turns and heads back to the lounge room and, sure enough, there is a large tawny owl sitting on the arm of the sofa. Harry laughs and grabs a quill from the kitchen to scratch out a brief response, wanting to get his reply off as quickly as possible so that the owl wouldn't leave any droppings on his carpet.

He re-reads Hermione's letter, wondering at his friend's state of mind. He glances once more at Oliver's note with a tender smile before replying.

_Dear Hermione,_

_I am fine._

_Love,_

_Harry  
><em>

Harry sends the owl off with his reply before turning and heading for his bedroom once more, wondering where his friend was that she couldn't talk to him for three months. He'd have to ask Ron about it later. Maybe his red-headed friend had received a similar message.

He smiles as he wonders if it is pre-wedding sentamentality that has prompted his friend's sudden enquiry.

Harry walks into his bedroom and looks around. He heads for the beside tables on either side of his large four poster but nothing in the drawers indicate a gift of any sort, nor do they contain the picture frame that Mr Malfoy had spoken of. Harry drops to his hands and knees and looks under the bed, but there is nothing there but dust bunnies.

Harry sits back up and looks around with a frown. He obviously would have hidden the items from Oliver, so where would he...

Harry's eyes fall on the closet doors. He moves across the room and slides open the wooden doors to glance inside. The closet is fairly neat so Harry drops to his knees and begins pushing aside the few small boxes that are stacked on the closet floor. Behind the boxes are a few bulky jumpers sitting in a heap. Harry lifts them up to put aside and a cloth package falls from within, falling to the floor with a loud thump.

Harry looks down and knows instantly that it's the package that he's been looking for.

Harry ponders over the strange out of body experience; to know that he himself had hid this package in the closet - but couldn't remember doing it.

Harry picks the bundle up and carries it over to his bed. He sits cross-legged on the mattress and unties the cloth bindings. The shimmery material falls away to reveal the three objects.

Harry immediately recognizes the Slytherin tie. He shakes his head as the fact that he was in a relationship with a Slytherin blatantly stares up at him. He ignores the ring box in order to lift up the delicate photo frame.

As promised, the pearly frame instantly reacts to Harry's touch; bursting into life and movement beneath his trembling fingers.

Harry stares wide-eyed as he watches a slightly younger version of himself laugh and lovingly embrace the blond companion at his side, emerald eyes practically glowing with love and affection.

Harry drops the frame as though he's been burnt. The photograph vanishes the instant it lands on the plush bed covering.

Harry stares into space, trying to comprehend what he's just witnessed. There was no loophole, no fact that didn't make sense or didn't add up. He'd known it since the Veritaserum, and even more so since the visit with Draco's solicitor, but now... now a real image was burned into his scarred memory.

Harry closes his eyes against a sudden onslaught of dizziness and tries to breathe normally.

He opens his eyes again and looks at the last remaining gift, the pewter box.

Harry flicks open the lid before he can change his mind, but quickly snaps it shut again upon seeing the ring nestled there.

He turns away, his heart pounding. He desperately tries to organize his thoughts with these new revelations.

He had been in love with a Slytherin schoolmate who had - and still did - love him deeply and irrevocably in return. They had had sex. They had made future _'plans'_ that included each other. Draco had bought him a ring, maybe not a marriage proposal but certainly symbolic of the commitment he felt for Harry.

Harry could not remember _ever_ feeling as happy, content or as visibly bursting with love as evidenced in that photo.

And someone had stolen all that from him.

Harry slowly opens sad eyes with a whole new revelation.

Somewhere out there was one Draco Malfoy who had to live with the completely intact version of these beautiful memories - alone.


	5. You Lost the Love I Loved the Most

**Leaving Scars**

_Chapter Five: You Lost the Love I Loved the Most_

"Hey Ron, do you have a minute?"

The easy-going redhead glances up to see Harry standing in the doorway to his office.

He smiles and beckons his friend inside.

Harry shuts the door behind him and seats himself on the other side of the desk. He fidgets with the folder in his lap as he tries to work out how to begin.

Ron raises his brows at his best friend's nervousness. "Something wrong Harry?"

Harry looks up and forces himself to still his hands. "Kind of. Erm...do you remember someone from Hogwarts named Draco Malfoy?"

Ron gapes for a second and then bursts into laughter. "Do I remember him? Hmm... let me see, yeah I think I remember that ferret-faced tosser."

Harry frowns in confusion. "Did you not like him?"

Ron laughs again then abruptly cuts off at Harry's expression. He leans forward across his desk, an unsure smile quirking his lips. "Harry, what are you talking about?"

Harry's fingers tighten on the paper folder. "I don't remember him."

"What do you mean you don't remember him? He was the bane of your existence."

"He was?"

Ron frowns. "This isn't a joke is it?"

Harry slowly shakes his head.

"I don't understand..."

Harry heaves a weary sigh and decides that he'd better start from the beginning. "Draco Malfoy showed up at my place the other night-"

"The other night?" Ron interrupts. "Harry mate, you're starting to scare me. Malfoy is dead."

"Oh, no, actually it turns out he's still alive. He's been trapped in Iceland for the past couple of years."

"Holy shit..." Ron breathes out in shock then gives his head a shake. "Great, so now Malfoy can become the next You-Know-Who."

Harry looks up sharply. "What?"

"Come on Harry, what else do you expect the son of a Death Eater to become? Especially as dear ole daddy was Voldemort's right-hand man."

Harry pales, his mouth going dry.

Ron stands and comes around to perch on the edge of his desk, looking at his best friend in concern. "Are you alright?"

"No, actually I'm not," Harry replies unsteadily. "I think I'm going crazy. This... this person shows up at my door and I have no idea who he is, but everyone _thinks_ I should know him..." Harry stops and looks up at his friend. "Ron, someone has altered my memory to make me forget who Draco Malfoy is."

Ron leans back, his blue eyes wide. "Harry, that sounds... well, not good. It sounds like something Malfoy would have done himself. And why the hell did he show up at _your_ door? And how the hell did he know where you live?"

Harry shakes his head. "I don't know. But it wasn't Draco who did it, we had him under Veritaserum to prove his identity and I asked if he was the one who altered my memory."

"Please don't call him Draco," Ron grimaces. "I know you don't remember, but we only ever refer to him as Malfoy - or ferret," he adds with a slight smile.

Harry chews his lip worriedly. "Maybe you'd better fill me in on what he was like at school."

Ron snorts and returns to the chair behind his desk. "Well, he was a wanker. He was a Slytherin who lived to make our lives miserable, especially you, he hated you with a passion."

Harry frowns, the picture that Ron was painting just didn't add up to the image he had of the current Draco Malfoy. "Did I ever speak about him to you? Did I ever mention that we were friends?"

Ron lets out a bark of laughter. "_Friends_? You were most certainly not friends. Why? Did he say you were? I don't know Harry, sounds a bit suss to me."

"And his parents? Were they really Death Eaters?" Harry asks.

"Yeah," Ron nods. "Lucius was head Death Eater, if there was such a thing. They were a dark family Harry. That's why the Ministry blew the lot of them up, it's just too bad they didn't get Malfoy as well."

Harry sits back in shock at his friend's seemingly blood-thirsty attitude towards the Malfoy family. "The _Ministry_ destroyed their house? I just assumed that it was Voldemort..." Harry trails off. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. How could there be two such different accounts of one person? And how could he have been romantically involved with a Death Eater's son?

It just didn't make sense.

"What did Malfoy want from you?" Ron asks, interrupting his silent musing.

Harry looks up, unsure of how much he wanted to tell his friend. By the sounds of it, the red-head probably wouldn't cope with the news that he and Draco had been 'dating.' "It's complicated," he finally replies. "I used my Ministry connections to help him resume his identity."

"You helped him?" Ron exclaims, horrified. "Bloody hell Harry, if the roles had been reversed he would've kicked you out onto the street and spit on you."

Harry stands, unable to sit still any longer. "He wasn't mean or rude or... or cruel," he says, thinking aloud. "He didn't _act_ like an enemy."

"Of course not," Ron replies. "He wanted you to help him. I bet he's not so nice the next time you meet up."

Harry stops and turns to face him. "So, Drac- sorry, _Malfoy _went to school with us, was a complete prat, had future Death Eater written all over him, and we hated him?"

Ron grins. "Yep, that about sums it up."

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. "Why did he hate us?"

Ron sits back in his chair, brow furrowed as he thought back. "Well, he wanted to be your friend right from the first day of school, because you were famous and all that, but then when you refused to want to know him… I guess it started from there."

"Why did I do that?" Harry asks curiously.

Ron gives a shrug. "I think you already saw a hint of prattishness and didn't want to be associated with him. Plus he loved to insult me and my family. You did the right thing Harry, he was – and probably still is – a right wanker. He did some pretty awful things to us back in Hogwarts."

Harry stands in thoughtful silence for a moment, storing what Ron had said for future consideration. Then something occurs to him about what Ron had said with regards to Malfoy trying to be his friend on their first day.

"Was Malfoy a prat right through to the end of school? Did he change in the last year or two at all?"

"How so?" Ron asks.

Harry shrugs and walks across the floor. "Did he become…softer, less cruel?"

Ron chews his lip a moment. "Well, I suppose he may have lightened up a bit in the last couple of years, I don't remember him insulting us and pulling pranks as much, but then, he was probably busy with Voldemort and the Death Eaters by then."

Harry nods but on the inside he is filled with frustration. As soon as he tries to think about the past, that horrible white film would slowly drift in from the outer edges and block out the image. He gives his head a shake and immediately diverts his attention, trying to ward off the accompanying migraine.

"Thanks Ron," Harry says with a forced smile, walking towards the door. "I'd better get back to work."

"What about your memory?" Ron asks, rising to his feet. "Do you want some help in trying to find out who did it?"

"Not just yet, I'll let you know." Harry turns in the doorway and deftly changes the subject. "Oh hey, did you receive any letters from Hermione yesterday?"

"Nope."

"She sent me a note asking how I was doing. It was kinda strange, not too sure what she meant by it."

"She's never stayed in Bulgaria for so long, she must be homesick already," Ron grins in amusement.

"I thought it might be something like that," Harry replies with a matching smile. "Or pre-wedding hysteria."

Ron laughs and nods in agreement.

Harry waves in farewell and walks out the door, heading back towards his office. He drops the file he'd been carrying onto his desk and collapses back in his chair.

Harry rubs at his dry eyes in irritation. He was even more confused now than he'd been last night. He had begun to feel something towards the blond man; an empathy that had made him want to reach out and help him. He'd actually felt _sorry_ for him.

And now there were all these new pieces of information: Ron had only negative things to say about him, they'd fought in school, his father was a Death Eater, the very faction Harry worked for had destroyed the Malfoys without a second thought...

Harry groans and covers his face with his hands. What a mess. He could feel that familiar migraine building again in his temples.

He exhales heavily and stands, deciding to head off to Chipping Clodbury to investigate the mysterious fires. He grabs the worn file and slips on his winter coat. Hopefully the distraction would take his mind off his own problems.

Unfortunately his problems were waiting right outside the door.

"Harry."

Harry jumps as someone calls his name the moment he steps out of the Ministry building into the bustling London streets.

He turns to see Draco lounging gracefully against the side of the building.

"Oh hello," Harry answers unenthusiastically. It was not a good time to be confronted by the source of his burgeoning migraine.

Draco frowns quizzically as he steps away from the brick wall and walks over. "You alright?"

Harry sighs. "You know, I'm starting to get tired of people asking me that. Sorry but it's not a good time Malfoy."

Harry shifts his weight, avoiding the blond's narrowed eyes.

"Malfoy?" he repeats stonily. "Who have you been talking to?"

Harry looks up. "You didn't tell me your father was a Death Eater," he says.

Draco crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back, the warmth gone from his eyes. "Because you already knew that."

"Maybe the old Harry did but I sure as hell didn't," Harry returns evenly.

"Well bring the old Harry back because this new one is a bit of a prick."

"Oh bravo," Harry replies, his migraine reaching full force and fuelling his temper. "Insult the man you claim to be so desperately in love with. I see your true personality is beginning to show."

Draco's eyes widen in surprise. "What's wrong with you? What poison have you been listening to?"

Harry takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. "There are a lot of things wrong with me at the moment, the least of which is finding out that I was in a relationship with a Death Eater's son. Tell me, were you following some plan to bring me back to Voldemort?"

Draco swears and turns away in agitation. "I am _not_ going through this again," he declares vehemently. "Harry, we've been through all this. I did _not_ work for Voldemort, I was a spy for the Order, just like Snape. You, Severus and Dumbledore were the only ones that knew that. Yes my father was a Death Eater, and an important one at that, which is why I was such an invaluable spy."

Harry pauses. "It's convenient that I'm the only one alive who can confirm that information - except that I can't."

Draco considers him a moment. "Did you find the photograph?" he finally asks quietly.

Harry looks away, suddenly flustered. "Yes."

"Then you know," Draco replies insistently. "You know how much we meant to each other, how much I meant to _you_."

Harry suddenly felt as though he couldn't deal with his mess of a life a second longer without screaming. He quickly turns and begins to walk away without another word.

"Harry... Harry wait."

Harry ignores Draco's calls as he practically runs into the nearest alley. He takes a few calming breaths with closed eyes before gathering himself to Apparate.

"Argh!" Harry cries out in surprise as a hand clamps down on his arm just as he begins to disappear.

As soon as he appears at his destination, Harry stumbles and would've fallen to his knees if not for the firm grip on his left arm. He whips around and glares at Draco, who is smirking at him.

"Do you mind?" Harry exclaims in anger, wrenching his arm out of the blond's grasp. "You could've splinched us! And stop following me around!"

Instead of getting angry, Draco merely chuckles, the sparkle back in his eyes.

Harry closes his eyes and rubs at his aching temples.

"Are you still getting migraines?" Draco asks sympathetically.

"Yes, and stop that," Harry mutters.

"What?"

"Stop... stop _saying_ things!"

Draco laughs then bites his lip to quickly stifle it.

Harry opens his eyes with a sigh, wishing he had a headache potion with him.

"You know, the best remedy for your migraines used to be a scalp massage from yours truly."

Harry glares at him before straightening his shoulders and walking off towards the wizarding village down the hill. He is hardly surprised when Draco begins to trail after him and then fall into step beside him.

"You're really irritating, you know that?" Harry says.

Draco smiles. "So what are we doing here?"

"_I_ am investigating some fires," Harry replies testily. "_You_ are interfering with official Ministry business."

Draco smirks but wisely remains silent.

Harry stops and turns toward him. "Look, I really can't afford to have you here while I'm working."

"Am I distracting you?" Draco asks with an arched brow.

"Yes, now leave me alone." Harry turns and stomps off, head down.

"Uh Harry-"

"I'm not listening," Harry replies churlishly.

"Harry, there's a fire."

Harry looks up to see a great plume of black smoke curling up into the sky from the other side of the village. He instantly Disapparates with a loud crack.

From the moment he appears, Harry removes his wand from within his coat and starts running towards the base of the roaring fire. All thoughts are suspended as he focuses on the task at hand.

He scans the area for any sign of human life and spots a black cloaked figure through the crackling flames. Harry puts on a burst of speed and rushes around the burning shed, wand drawn.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry dodges the spell as it comes racing towards him. "Petrificus totalus!" he counters loudly.

The figure ducks down to the ground and lifts his wand. "Crucio!"

The stream of red light barely misses Harry as he drops and rolls to the side. He turns onto his belly and aims his wand once more. "Expelliarmus!"

This time his aim is true and he hits the other wizard in the chest, his wand flying out of his hand and onto the ground a few meters away.

Harry leaps to his feet and dashes over to pick it up, all the while keeping his own wand pointed at his captive. He walks over with both wands and looks down into the wizard's sweating face. He's a man of about forty with dark eyes and a black straggly beard. The man glares up at Harry.

Harry whispers a spell and his wand glows white for a moment. It was an alert to the Auror department that he had someone in his custody to be brought in.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?" the man sneers venomously.

Harry looks back down at him and narrows his eyes. "Yes, aren't you lucky?"

"They let you out all by yourself?"

Harry doesn't like the man's tone and his hand tightens on his wand.

Suddenly there is a small explosion from within the burning shed and as Harry's eyes flick up the man makes his move.

"Look out!"

Draco's cry alerts Harry and the brunette instinctively moves to the side, but the man's dagger still catches him in the thigh as he moves.

Harry gasps in pain but remains standing. "Petrificus totalus!" he quickly immobilises the man on the ground before he can do any more harm.

Draco arrives at his side as Harry carefully removes the small dagger from where it was embedded in his flesh.

"Shit..." Harry swears under his breath as he presses a hand to the bleeding wound.

"Merlin Harry, are you alright?" Draco asks, glancing down at his injured leg.

Harry swallows and looks up. "Yeah, I'm fine. It isn't deep."

"Let me see," Draco insists, kneeling down.

Harry removes his hand and can see that the bleeding has already slowed, the blood beginning to clot.

Draco removes the thin black scarf from around his neck and carefully ties it around Harry's thigh, causing the other boy to hiss in pain.

"Sorry," Draco apologizes, glancing up.

"No, it's fine. Thanks," Harry says gratefully, hesitantly taking a step back once he's done but keeping his eye locked with Draco's.

They're suddenly interrupted by the arrival of three Aurors in maroon robes, wands drawn.

"Harry," Seamus Finnegan walks over and glances at the make-shift bandage around his thigh. "You alright mate?"

"Yeah," Harry replies, tearing his gaze away from Draco's warm grey eyes. "Finally found our fire bandit," he jokes, looking at the man frozen on the ground.

Seamus finally notices Draco kneeling on the ground and his eyes widen in disbelief. "What the...?"

Harry smiles wearily. "Yes it's Draco Malfoy. Yes he's alive and well."

Seamus quickly recovers from the shock. "I'd heard rumours... I can't believe it's true."

Draco rises from the ground and casually dusts the dirt off of his trousers.

"We've already tested him," Harry continues. "It's really him."

Seamus twirls his wand in his hand. "Hope you're not here to continue daddy's work Malfoy."

Draco's eyes flare with anger.

"Seamus," Harry says warningly. "Just leave it. We've got work to do."

"But Harry, how can you trust him?" Seamus insists, speaking as though the Slytherin wasn't standing two feet away.

"If it weren't for him I would have a dagger in my heart and not my thigh," Harry says evenly.

"Hmph." Seamus presses his lips together, unconvinced.

Draco shoots Harry a grateful smile as Seamus turns away to help the remaining Aurors put out the fire. "I'd better go," Draco says regretfully.

"Thanks again," Harry says awkwardly.

Draco glances at the other Aurors before pulling Harry aside. "When will I see you again?" he asks quietly.

Harry fidgets uneasily, avoiding Draco's gaze. "I don't think-"

"I know you don't," Draco says, "but if you want to cut me out of your life then we need to talk about it first. You at least owe me that much."

"We've talked already," Harry replies weakly. "Nothing good can come of it, not when I still don't have my memories back."

Harry finally lifts his gaze to Draco's face and winces at the look of pain there. Guilt plumes in his chest, especially after the blond had possibly just saved his life.

"Alright," Harry relents. "Just... just give me a few days without any contact so that I can think."

Draco nods and releases his hand from where it had been clasping Harry's elbow. "Shall I contact you at work?"

"Yeah alright, some time next week."

Draco smiles and stops himself just short of leaning in to kiss Harry's cheek in farewell. The absence of that gesture tore at his heart.

Harry watches Draco Disapparate then turns, squares his shoulders, and returns to Auror mode.

Harry completes his paperwork with a heavy sigh and slips the closed file back into his office cabinet. His superiors had been very pleased with his capture of the mysterious 'fire man of Chipping Clodbury,' who turned out to be just a raging pyromaniac and nothing more sinister. Luckily no one had ever been hurt in the fires, only damage done to private property – and to Harry himself of course.

Harry leans his forehead against the cool metal of the cabinet and closes his eyes. His headache had subsided slightly and he felt weary down to his bones. He decided emotional distress was much more draining than physical.

It was six o'clock and time to go home, but Harry found that he didn't want to go home to his empty flat. He'd spent all of last night alternately staring at the moving photograph from Draco and stuffing it away in his closet, promising to never look at it again.

"You look like you could use a drink."

Harry turns with an exhausted smile to see Ron just outside his door. "That is the best idea I've heard all day."

Harry and Ron head over to 12 Bar Club once more. It's Friday night and there are a fair few patrons in suits, obviously heading straight over from work in order to let off some steam.

Harry allows the loud music to wash over him and push the swirling thoughts completely out of his head, or at least mute them for the time being. He turns to Ron with a grin. "Let's get pissed!"

Ron laughs and nods his agreement over the thumping sound system.

Three hours later, Harry finds himself dancing with a strange sandy-haired boy, a nearly empty drink in one hand and a silly grin plastered on his face. Ron had left fifteen minutes earlier with a cute brunette and he hoped his friend was somewhere getting lucky.

Harry's dance partner suddenly slips a hand down to rest on the curve of his backside, pulling him up against the man's gyrating hips. Harry blinks and glares at him a moment before grabbing the man's wandering hand and moving it back up to his waist.

"Come on baby," the man purrs hotly in his ear.

Harry rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Sorry but I'm taken," he slurs.

The man smiles and shrugs, keeping his hand where Harry had moved it.

Harry continues to dance for another hour before collapsing onto one of the plush red bar stools. He empties another pint, allowing the refreshing liquid to flow down his throat and cool his heated body.

As the room tilts and blurs in front of his eyes, Harry finally decides that he's had enough and should probably call it a night.

He totters off towards the exit and stumbles out the heavy wooden doors into the dark cool night. He decides against Apparating in his current state and frowns in concentration as he tries to remember how to get home the muggle way.

Harry squints in the darkness as a fuzzy figure comes to a stop in front of him.

"What have you done to yourself Potter?"

"Oh no, not you again," Harry groans loudly. "Do you have a tracer on me or something?"

Draco chuckles and deftly ignores the question in favour of grabbing ahold of Harry's arms as the Gryffindor looks as though he's in danger of toppling over. Harry startles at the sudden contact and stumbles unsteadily into Draco's chest, the blond's arms automatically wrapping around him.

Harry freezes, his face inches away from Draco's neck, the man's cologne filling his nostrils and making his head swim. Harry's hands fist in Draco's wool jacket as he slowly lifts his head to look into those grey eyes. He is so close that he can actually see the small flecks of silvery blue amongst the deep grey.

Draco inhales sharply, eyes unconsciously flicking down to Harry's parted lips.

Harry sees the motion and slowly lifts his head a little higher, tilting to one side, heavily lidded eyes falling shut.

Draco swallows and gives in, leaning down to press his lips to Harry's warm mouth. He whimpers quietly in the back of his throat as Harry eagerly kisses him back.

A strange sense of deju vu sweeps over Harry as he kisses Draco; the smell and taste of the man is so familiar, and yet he can't place the exact memory. He moans heatedly as he opens his mouth and Draco's warm tongue slides across his own. He wants to be swallowed whole, his body is aching and on fire, every single nerve singing out with arousal. He slides his fingers into the pale blond strands of silky hair and presses his body closer, causing Draco to moan into his mouth.

Harry had never felt so turned on or out of control before, it was addictive and wonderful and... and...

"No...!" Harry pulls back suddenly, his foggy brain finally emerging from its horny stupor long enough to resurrect his forgotten conscience.

Draco hears the horrified gasp and feels the sudden tension stiffen Harry's body. He slowly releases him with closed eyes, not wanting to see the regret in those emerald depths.

Harry takes an unsteady step backwards, eyes wide with horror at what he had done, one hand hovering over his traitorous mouth.

Draco resignedly opens his eyes, preparing for the worst.

Harry slowly shakes his head, as though denying what had happened. "Stay away from me."

"Harry-" Draco responds wearily.

"No!" Harry shouts, startling a few passers-by. "I mean it. Stay the hell away from me."

Draco's hands fist at his sides as he suddenly flushes with anger. He was tired of having his emotions messed around with by the other boy and his Swiss cheese memory. "Stop being such a fuckwit Harry, if you'd stop for one second and look past your self-righteous Gryffindor bullshit then maybe you'd see what you really want."

"Oh and I suppose that's you?" Harry snaps, swaying unsteadily on his feet.

"You're the one who kissed _me_," Draco retaliates sharply. "And let me remind you that two years ago it was_ you_ who made the first move as well."

Harry opens his mouth furiously. "I am so sick of you screwing with my life! I don't care what you say, I don't want you, I don't love you, and I don't want to be with you!"

Draco feels Harry's words like a punch to the gut, but he refuses to let it show. "Fine," he spits with narrowed eyes and a hard steely edge to his voice. "I won't bother you anymore. You're not worth it."

Draco turns and begins to walk away, back straight and head held high despite the wrenching heartache twisting his chest. He angrily swats the tears from his cool cheeks.

Harry swallows and turns away from Draco's retreating back, angry with himself for feeling as though he should be stopping the tall blond from leaving.

He forces himself to start walking, his head dizzy from the nauseating mix of alcohol and sudden rage. Everything is a blurry mess of city lights and loud noises. Harry vainly shakes his head, trying to reorientate himself as he stumbles along. His brain feels fuzzy and his limbs slow and heavy as he forces himself to keep moving. A million different thoughts and emotions swirl in his intoxicated mind.

Draco slows his brisk pace as the anger fades and the hollow sadness and regret sets in. He is left feeling utterly alone, wondering if perhaps he had lost _his_ Harry for good.

Draco jumps as the sound of screeching tires fill the air, followed by a sickening thump and a few cries of alarm.

Draco whirls around, cold tendrils of fear and dread gripping his heart. He knew what he was going to see before his eyes even saw the stopped car with the crumpled body lying still on the pavement nearby.

With a choked cry of fear, Draco takes off at a full run. He frantically pushes through the gathering crowd of onlookers, desperate to see the motionless body - even though he already knew who he would find there.

Draco doesn't stop until he is right next to the fallen form. There is already a dark pool of blood forming beneath the head of dark unruly hair. Harry's limbs are at awkward angles and his shallow breathing rattles sickeningly from his chest.

Draco can't stop the sob that pushes past his lips as he glances around helplessly. He can't Apparate to St Mungos with Harry in this condition, it was too dangerous. He can see some of the surrounding muggles on their mobile phones, and he prays that they're calling for help.

"Oh shit..."

Draco glances up to see the driver of the car standing over them, pale and staring at Harry in shock.

"He came out of nowhere…"

Draco ignores him and returns his attention to Harry. He can hear a female muggle asking him if he knows Harry but he tunes her out, his entire being focused on Harry's unmoving body, watching the erratic rise and fall of his chest, willing with every fibre of his body for Harry to keep on breathing.

The tears fall in a steady stream as he cradles Harry's limp hand in his own and listens to the siren of the approaching ambulance...


	6. I Have Grown Too Strong

**Chapter Six: I Have Grown Too Strong to Ever Fall Back in Your Arms**

Draco hops into the ambulance with the assurance that he's Harry's partner, and the vehicle immediately speeds them away towards the nearest hospital. The Slytherin watches as the attendants immediately go to work on his lover, stabilising his breathing and checking his heart rate and blood pressure, as well as trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound in his head.

Draco stays at the back of the ambulance, trying to stay out of the way, but watching everything that is happening like a hawk. He instantly notices when one of the ambulance attendants pauses almost imperceptively at the lightning bolt scar on Harry's forehead. Draco catches her eye and she gives a slight nod of affirmation.

Draco nearly sighs aloud in relief. He'd heard that witches and wizards would work in muggle hospitals to lend a magical hand whenever someone of their own kind was brought in. This way, if a muggle saw something a little 'unnatural' with a patient's injuries then their minds could be instantly modified and the rare maladies forgotten. The patient could then be moved to St Mungo's for further treatment without the muggles becoming alarmed as well.

The next couple of hours fly past in a blur for Draco; arriving at the hospital, answering what he could about Harry's medical past and his information, pacing the white sterile hallway as they attend to Harry in the ER...

Draco finally collapses into a hard plastic chair, rubbing at his dry eyes and skin, his hair in an unusual state of disarray. His heart is still jumping around madly, his stomach sick with nausea and worry. He'd never in his life been so concerned for another human being's welfare before. He had worried over the prospect of Harry fighting in the war and standing off against Voldemort, but this was different. Harry had looked so fragile and vulnerable lying there in the street, blood pouring out of his unmoving body.

This wasn't Harry the powerful wizard, this was Harry the human, who had as tenuous a hold on life as the rest of the human race.

Draco looks up sharply as a non-descript doctor comes to let him into Harry's room. Draco frowns as he notes that Harry is still in the critical care ward.

The doctor explains Harry's injuries to him and Draco listens in a haze, his sharp grey eyes checking over the still form lying beneath the stark white hospital sheet.

"Will he live?" Draco interrupts, not caring about which bones were shattered or how much blood had been lost. He only needed to know one thing.

The doctor sighs and glances at Harry before returning his tired gaze back to Draco. "I believe so. He's not out of the woods yet, but I am confident that he will survive. What I'm not confident of, is what lasting damage has been done. He may not be the same once he awakens."

Draco acknowledges the doctor's words with a nod, hoping that any lasting damage that _does_ occur will be easily fixed with magic.

The distraught blond is finally left alone with Harry, the door shutting behind the doctor with a soft whoosh of air. The beeps and lights of the bedside machines keep up a perpetual stream of movement and sound in the otherwise silent room. Draco pulls a chair over to the bedside and sits down as close as possible, gently taking up Harry's limp hand in his own.

Draco swallows, trying to contain the sobs that are threatening to erupt from his chest. Harry's head is bandaged and both eyes have blacky purple circles around them. The harsh colours stand out in comparison to the white of the bedclothes and the white of Harry's almost translucent skin. He has a few shallow scratches down one side of his face that look like road burn, the surrounding skin red and irritated.

He watches the comforting rise and fall of Harry's chest, his fingers absently caressing the soft skin of Harry's hand as he waits for him to open his eyes...

Harry wants to moan as the throbbing in his head threatens to overwhelm him. He's never had a hang-over this fierce before. He can't even begin to gather the strength to open his eyes as his face contorts with the intense pain in his skull.

There is a rustling sound to his right and his hand is suddenly encompassed within a warm grip.

Harry slowly becomes aware of the steady beeping next to him, the harsh smell of disinfectant in the air and the distant sound of people passing by his room. The realisation that he is not at home but obviously in a hospital strikes fear into his heart and adrenaline flushes through his veins, giving enough strength for him to slowly force open his heavy eyelids.

The first thing he sees is the concerned face of a handsome blond man, handsome despite the dishevelled appearance.

"Draco...?" Harry croaks in confusion, his voice coming out weak and thin.

Draco seems to take this as a good sign and sighs in relief. "Harry love, how are you feeling?"

Harry frowns and then regrets the small motion as his bruised face protests painfully. "Hurts..."

"I'll get help," Draco assures him before striding out of his line of vision.

Harry struggles to remember what happened; he could remember going to work, then to 12 Bar with Ron and getting smashed. Harry's eyes widen as he suddenly remembers the drunken kiss with Draco and then stumbling away as quickly as possible down the street...

He remembers too bright headlights coming out of the darkness and his Auror reflexes failing him as he stood rooted to the spot as they came ever closer...

Harry closes his eyes again, feeling deeply shamed. He had gotten drunk and then walked out in front of a car. What a stupid foolish thing to do, he could've died. What would his friends think if they knew?

Harry hated being injured and stuck in the hospital, but even more so, he hated being alone with his pain, and for that he was glad that Draco was there. A slightly familiar face was very much welcomed in the foreign environment.

"Harry?" Draco comes back into view with a strained smile. "The nurse is on her way with some pain relief."

Harry notices the exhaustion in Draco's face and eyes. "How long have I been here?" he asks, the question coming out in a whisper.

Draco seats himself back at Harry's bedside, shuffling close so that Harry can see him easily. "About twelve hours now I think."

Harry's eyes widen in surprise. "And... you've been here the entire time?"

Draco's smile is tinged with sadness. "Of course," he offers simply.

Harry pauses, and to his horror, sudden tears spring into his eyes.

"Harry?" Draco's brow creases in concern as Harry's emerald eyes glisten with unshed tears. "Are you in that much pain?" He glances towards the door, looking for the nurse.

"No," Harry croaks and closes his eyes, which he realises is a mistake when that simple motion squeezes the tears out to trail down his cheeks.

Draco relaxes back into his seat. "What is it?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" Harry whispers, revealing honest eyes and looking at Draco with an openness he hadn't seen since their time together nearly two years ago.

Draco hesitates, shifting uneasily in the plastic chair. He didn't know what to say to Harry anymore, the truth only seemed to scare him off or anger him, but what else could he say?

"Because I love you."

Harry seems to accept this answer quite easily, as though he'd been expecting it. "Still?" he asks.

Draco smiles a little. "Yes."

Harry finally looks away, his eyes flicking towards the ceiling. "Why?"

Draco sighs and sits back in his chair. "I can't just turn it off Harry, no matter how shit you treat me or how many times you tell me to get out of your life."

Harry winces but remains silent.

"I've had a lot of time to think," Draco continues, feeling a sense of relief at finally being able to speak to Harry about everything. "And it's almost as if there are two Harry's; there's my Harry from the past, who knows me and loves me, and then there is you - alternate universe Harry."

Harry snorts in amusement.

Draco's responding smile quickly fades. "I feel as though if I just wait long enough, then my Harry will return from wherever it is that he's gone."

Harry swallows thickly. He could hear that familiar raw pain in Draco's voice, that loneliness that somehow seemed to spark some sort of recognition within himself every time he heard it...

Harry gasps, causing Draco to get to his feet in a panic.

"I felt it too..."

Draco frowns, wondering if Harry's head injuries were finally surfacing.

Harry's eyes swivel back towards him, latching onto his face with dawning realisation.

"I was lonely and depressed and in pain..." Harry says slowly. "I remember... I remember feeling lost. No, like I'd lost something," Harry searches Draco's face. "Like I'd lost _someone_. It was you wasn't it?"

Draco stands staring down at him as the world seems to freeze around him. "What else can you remember?" he asks in a hushed voice.

Harry gasps again but this time in distress. The pain of trying to remember what his brain wouldn't allow mixed with the pain of his head injury was excruciating. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a whimper.

Draco bolts to the door and hurries to get the nurse. Luckily she has a sweet and understanding disposition, as Draco feels it necessary to use multiple profanities to try to rush her to Harry's side.

She quickly administers a shot of morphine into Harry's drip line and checks his vitals.

"Visiting hours are over," she mentions aside to Draco once she has finished.

"I'm not a visitor," Draco replies firmly. "I'm a permanent resident until my partner is moved out of critical care."

The nurse can't help but hide a smile at Draco's protectiveness. He obviously loved the injured brunette very much. "Alright, but if anyone asks, I didn't give you permission to stay."

Draco flashes her a quick smile and returns to his watchful seat beside Harry's bed.

"You should get some sleep," she says, taking in the dark circles under Draco's eyes. "He'll sleep too once the morphine kicks in."

Draco nods and turns back to Harry as she quietly exits the room.

Harry opens his eyes with a small sigh. His head already felt much better.

"You should sleep," Draco instructs him softly, giving in to the impulse of brushing a dark lock of hair off of Harry's damp forehead.

Harry smiles drowsily at the touch, his eyes drooping. "Will you stay?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Draco nods, too overcome with emotion to speak. He knew it was the strong drugs and the shock that were causing Harry to act this way, but it was still music to his ears to hear.

"Thankyou…Draco…"

Harry drifts off and Draco stays until he is sure that Harry is deeply asleep before removing himself to the empty bed next to him.

Harry frowns as he slowly regains consciousness again. He shifts slightly on the bed, which sends red-hot sparks of pain through his left leg and ribs.

He cautiously opens his eyes, hoping the nurse isn't too far away so that he can have some more of that pain relief.

The sun-filled room is too bright, even without his glasses on, and he squints around for a moment, waiting for the brightness to dull.

He suddenly realises that there is a figure standing next to the window, staring out. With a stab of guilt, Harry realises that it's Oliver. He hadn't thought of his boyfriend once last night.

Harry tries to call out to him but the sharp stab of pain in his ribs causes a strange garbled whimper to emit from his mouth instead.

Oliver turns and is by his side in an instant. "Harry?"

Harry winces in pain and looks up at him. "Oliver…" he rasps a little breathlessly. "Could you…get the nurse."

"Of course love." Oliver's eyes are filled with concern as he rushes for the door.

Harry closes his eyes a moment. Oliver's use of the endearment 'love' brings back memories of Draco saying the very same thing to him last night. He vaguely wonders where the blond is as he lies in wait for Oliver to return.

Harry grimaces as he thinks of what a mess he was in – emotionally as well as physically. Why did he have to go and kiss Draco? He wasn't even attracted to him, not really, and now… Now he knew what it felt like to kiss the other man, and it had been… Well, it had been the most perfectly exquisite kiss of his young life.

Harry squeezes his eyes shut as though trying to block out his thoughts. How could he have done this to Oliver?

"Harry?"

Harry opens his eyes and sees Oliver at his side with a young nurse in tow. He flashes her a relieved smile as she administers the morphine.

Oliver watches as the nurse checks his vitals and makes some notes on her clipboard.

"How are you feeling Mr Potter?" she asks kindly.

"I'm okay," Harry replies hesitantly.

She arches a brow at him.

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Erm… actually everything hurts."

She picks up her pen and poises it over the clipboard. "Where does it hurt?"

"My left leg and arm, my ribs, and my head," Harry ticks off quietly.

She nods and scribbles on the page. "And which one hurts the most?"

"My head," Harry promptly replies.

"On a scale of one to ten, ten being the most painful, what level would you say it's at?" she asks methodically.

"Erm… eight or nine."

Oliver picks up Harry's hand and holds it, gazing down at him sympathetically.

The nurse asks a few more questions then gives them a brief smile before leaving.

Oliver pulls up the plastic chair that Draco had been sitting in all night and sits down, still holding fast to Harry's hand.

"Oh Harry…" he starts quietly. "I was so scared… I didn't know what to expect when I got here."

Harry swallows and forces himself to meet Oliver's warm gaze. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" Oliver asks in surprise.

"For being stupid," Harry says quietly. "I can't believe I did that. I'm never drinking again."

Oliver smiles tenderly and gives his hand a squeeze. "At least not alone, alright?"

Harry cautiously takes a deep breath, the pain in his ribs now dulled to a low throbbing from the morphine. "How bad is it?" he asks in a whisper.

Oliver places another hand overtop of Harry's cool one. "They say that you have a long road ahead of you but that you'll fully recover your motor functions."

Harry narrows his eyes, sensing that there's something he's not saying. "But…?"

Oliver swallows. "They're just a bit worried about any lasting damage to, well, your brain. They won't know anything concrete until the swelling recedes."

Harry nods, unable to say anything. His gaze falls from Oliver's face down to the end of his bed.

"They say it's a good sign that you're already awake and able to carry on a normal conversation," Oliver adds with forced brightness.

Harry doesn't respond as he stares at his motionless legs. He tenses his right thigh muscle with ease but hisses with pain when he attempts the same with the left. He suddenly realises that his leg is encased in a full cast, it was as though he didn't have any nerve endings along his skin and could not feel the hard plaster against his flesh.

He turns back towards Oliver who is watching him silently. "When can we go to St Mungo's?" he asks.

"Soon," Oliver smiles. "You'll be discharged from here in a couple of weeks and then we can transfer you. Don't worry, you won't be in a wheelchair for long."

Harry sighs in relief. As long as his brain isn't jumbled then he can return to normal in no time. He pushes his worries about lasting brain damage to the back of his mind for now. He finally smiles a little and turns back to Oliver.

"Are you missing your road trip?" he suddenly asks, remembering that the other boy was supposed to be with his team.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it, they understand," Oliver replies easily. "I came straight here as soon as I heard."

"How _did_ you hear?"

Oliver's eyes flash with some emotion that Harry can't identify. "Malfoy sent me an owl."

Harry's eyes widen in surprise. "He did?" he replies incredulously.

Oliver looks down at their joined hands. "Why was he there Harry?" he asks quietly.

Harry has the sudden urge to run away. He didn't want this conversation. Not now, not when he didn't even know himself what he was feeling.

"He followed me," Harry answers truthfully.

"And…what did he want?" Oliver asks, sounding as though it's taking all of his willpower to do so.

Harry sighs. "What do you think?" he asks rhetorically.

Oliver nods and finally drags his gaze back to Harry's face. "And?"

"And what?" Harry repeats quizzically. Surely he didn't know about the kiss?

"And… do you want him?"

Harry smiles. How could he even contemplate something with Draco Malfoy when he had this wonderfully loving man right here? With Draco it was all physical, Oliver was easy to be with, no complications or second guessing his intentions.

"No I don't want him," Harry replies, squeezing Oliver's hand and forcing the other boy to look at him. "I have you."

The ensuing smile this provokes seems to brighten the entire room. "Sorry," Oliver apologizes. "I had to ask."

Harry grins then breaks into a huge yawn. He winces a little at the pain in his head this produces.

"You should rest," Oliver says. "I'll be back later."

Harry nods and lets his eyes fall shut, suddenly feeling exhausted.

Oliver leans over and gives him a soft kiss to his forehead. "I love you Harry."

Harry smiles sleepily.

Oliver touches a finger to his cheek then quietly leaves the room.

Harry opens his eyes a crack and watches the door whoosh shut behind his boyfriend. He frowns as he contemplates the fact that he still can't quite repeat those words back to Oliver. He did love him, didn't he? Wasn't the warmth and happiness that Oliver caused in him love?

Somewhere deep in his heart he knew something was wrong, but he buried it beneath a thick layer of denial and a stubbornness that he held steadfast to.

Harry's eyes flutter shut once more as he finally drifts off into an uneasy sleep, the likes of which he hadn't been afflicted with for quite awhile.

Off to the side of the room there is a sudden shimmer in the air before Draco appears from beneath an Invisibility Cloak, grey eyes shining with unshed tears.

Harry laughs helplessly as he enters his flat, his crutches almost going out from under him on the slippery wooden floors.

Oliver quickly grabs him under the arms and hoists him up with a grin. "Slow down Harry, you're not one hundred percent yet you muppet."

Harry grins and breathes deeply, happy to be away from the hospital and from St Mungos. His muggle doctors were satisfied that no lasting damage had been done to his brain and he was discharged in a wheelchair with casts up to his eyeballs. After a few days at St Mungos, he was cast free and all his bones had been mended. His body was still quite weak though and he was told to stay on the crutches for another seven days, allowing for his newly mended bones to strengthen.

Oliver guides him over to the couch in the lounge room and Harry happily collapses back against the cushions.

"Now, you're sure you're going to be alright?" Oliver asks.

Harry rolls his eyes with a smile. "Yes, I will survive for four hours on my own."

"Don't forget Ron's coming over tonight with some DVD's." Oliver smiles and affectionately ruffles Harry's hair. "And I'll be home straight after training."

Harry blinks in surprise then smiles. "You've never called my flat home before."

Oliver smiles sheepishly and runs a nervous hand through his short hair. "Well, I do spend an awful lot of time here."

Harry nods in agreement then his stomach drops as he notices Oliver looking at him expectantly.

"I've been thinking Harry," Oliver says, sitting down beside him. "That maybe we should move in together."

Harry swallows, not knowing what to say.

"I mean," Oliver continues. "You're going to need some help for a little while and… and I think we're ready for this next step."

Harry bites his lip, thinking hard. "Erm… it does make sense." Harry looks up at Oliver's expectant expression and softens. "Sure, why not?"

Oliver grins. "Great, we'll talk more when I get back. I'll see you later!"

Harry forces a smile as Oliver gives him a quick kiss then leaves him alone in the flat.

He exhales heavily, his fake smile instantly sliding off of his face. He had a loving boyfriend that wanted to move in with him, was by his side every step of the way through his recovery, was there every day at the hospital-

And yet…

He hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since his first day in the hospital three weeks ago but the blond had been preying on his mind ever since. He wanted to thank him for notifying Oliver, it really was quite big of him to do that.

Harry shakes his head. No, he didn't just want to thank him, he wanted to see him again. His lips still tingled with the memory of that kiss, his fingers still held the memory of those silky strands of blond hair slipping through them, he could still remember the cologne that most definitely invoked a memory in him that refused to materialise…

Harry grabs his crutches suddenly and hefts himself off of the couch. He didn't know where he was headed but he knew he couldn't just sit around with his brooding thoughts all afternoon.

He pauses in the kitchen. Ron was at work, Hermione was out of the country, Oliver was at training… And even if he _did_ want to visit with a certain Slytherin, he didn't know where Draco was staying.

Harry decides that maybe a nice hobble into town would keep him occupied. He slings his cloak around his shoulders and carefully heads out into the cold grey day.

Christmas was fast approaching and there were already fairy lights strung up on the houses and in the windows of the local shops. Harry couldn't help but smile at all the festive cheer. Even seeing the photo of himself on the front page of the Daily Prophet didn't spoil his good mood. It didn't take long before the reports of him missing work because he'd been in a car accident came to light. Luckily they had kept out of the press the fact that Harry had been drunk at the time.

Harry knew he'd never do anything that foolish again, and the fact of it still shamed him greatly.

Harry carefully manoeuvres his way between the passing people, glancing into shop windows along the way. It's not long before he grows tired, his recovering muscles not used to the exercise after lying in bed for so long.

He hobbles into the closest coffee shop and collapses into the soft booth near the window. It's warm and cozy in the small shop, the smell of cinnamon and coffee heavy in the air.

Harry orders a hot chocolate and a cinnamon roll before turning towards the window. He smiles in delight at the sight of very tiny snowflakes beginning to flutter past the glass.

He hadn't had a break from work in quite some time and he was beginning to enjoy the feeling of having absolutely nothing to do but relax.

Harry feels the prickle of staring eyes whilst staring out the window at the winter scene. He turns his head and scans the busy shop, carefully searching all the happy patrons.

He locks eyes with familiar grey and feels his heart skip a beat. He gathers his courage and gives a little smile, beckoning Draco to join him.

Draco complies with a responding nod of the head and makes his way over, sliding into the empty seat across from him.

"Hi," Harry greets him inanely. He notices something different about the blond, something was off, as if he were masking his emotions.

Draco's responding smile is tight-lipped.

Harry glances away, trying to think of something to fill the growing silence. "Erm… you come here oft-"

"Harry," Draco interrupts quietly. "I just came to see if you're alright, and to return this."

Harry watches in shock as Draco removes his beloved Invisibility Cloak from within a cloth bag and lays it neatly folded on the table. He slowly reaches out to touch the soft fabric.

"How did…?"

"You lent it to me," Draco answers smoothly. "I'm just returning it."

Harry pulls it closer, hugging it to his chest. He looks back up. "How did you know I was here?"

Draco glances out the window as he replies. "You're right, I did put a tracer on you. I thought… Anyway, I've taken it off now."

Harry watches the blond, his heart going out to him. The man was clearly struggling to remain impassive and detached.

How did he even get into this situation, where no matter what he did he kept hurting people? Harry comes to a decision as Draco looks as though he is about to leave.

"I'm going to find out who altered my memory."

Draco looks up sharply. "You are?"

Harry nods. "I need to know."

"Why?" Draco's tone is cool but the expression in his eyes is intense, as though his very life depended on Harry's response.

It's Harry's turn to look out the window, trying to gather his scattered thoughts enough to form a coherent answer.

"I need to know the full story, and I don't like the idea that someone has altered my mind. There may be other memories that have been removed as well." Harry sighs and turns back towards him. "And to be honest, if our situations were reversed I would be going out of my mind trying to get you to find out who did it."

Draco finally allows a small smile to slip through the façade. "And then you would hex them into oblivion."

Harry smiles, absently fingering the material of his Invisibility Cloak. The waitress arrives then to deliver Harry's hot chocolate and pastry.

"Will you stay?" Harry asks, sticking one finger into the whipped cream and licking it.

Draco's eyes trace Harry's movements and he quickly looks away, a faint pink blush staining his cheeks.

Harry looks back up at him, oblivious to the reaction he has produced. "Please?'

"Why?" Draco asks, gaining control of his voice once more. "Won't your boyfriend get jealous?"

Harry raises a brow at the finely laced bitterness. "Probably, but he doesn't know you're here does he?"

Draco smirks then shakes his head. "Harry, I'm not in the habit of provoking fights with other men's boyfriends. No matter how much I think he doesn't deserve you," he can't help adding.

Harry chuckles and tears off a piece of his cinnamon roll, popping the warm morsel into his mouth and chewing. He knew Oliver wouldn't be happy with him having coffee with Draco, but spending some time with the blond seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, Draco could answer questions about his past that no one else could.

Draco signals to the waitress and orders a large cappuccino.

"How do we go about finding when it happened?" Harry begins seriously.

Draco settles clasped hands on the table and releases a heavy breath. "Alright, I was removed to Iceland about eighteen months ago, just before the big battle with Voldemort. You fought him, killed him, and then…?"

Harry licks his lips after taking a sip of his drink. "Then… I applied for a traineeship with the Aurors, got in, moved into my own flat, was offered a full-time position with them, and started dating Oliver about three months ago."

Draco's eyes darken but he continues evenly. "You would've believed that I was dead before you killed Voldemort, as the explosion was only about a day or two before you defeated him. I've spoken to a few people about what happened back then and they said that you were suddenly possessed with the need to kill Voldemort. They said you were obsessed and took chances to get to him – which I was not pleased to hear about by the way."

"And you think your death sparked that sudden desire?" Harry says with a frown.

Draco nods. "What do you remember?"

Harry shakes his head, closing his eyes. "Don't," he replies fiercely. "If I try to think about it…"

Draco squeezes his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch Harry. "Right, sorry. Think about something else, like pink fluffy unicorns."

Harry opens his eyes as he lets out a sudden bark of laughter.

Draco smiles, his detached guard slipping a little.

"Thanks," Harry grins. "That did the trick."

Draco accepts his mug of coffee from the waitress and takes a sip, drawing comfort from the warm liquid draining down his throat.

Harry sighs as he tears his roll into smaller pieces. "This isn't going to be easy, is it? I have no idea when it happened or who did it. It might be someone I don't even know…"

Draco sets his mug down. "Maybe we should be focusing on _why_ someone would do it?"

Harry looks up and nods. "Alright, anyone you know that would do something like that?"

Draco frowns thoughtfully. "No, not anymore. My parents might have pulled a stunt like that had they known, but they're dead."

"So you think it has to be someone that _I_ know?" Harry asks.

"Most likely."

Harry sighs and looks down into his swirling drink. "I don't understand why someone would do it if everyone in the wizarding world already thought that you were dead. What possible reason could they have to make me forget someone…who is…dead…"

Harry stops and looks up at Draco.

"What did I say at the hospital?"

"What?" Draco frowns.

Harry stares unblinkingly over Draco's shoulder. "I said that I was depressed and sad and in pain because I'd lost someone."

Draco stares at him uncomprehendingly then suddenly sits back as realization sets in. "No…" he whispers.

Harry's gaze slides back to Draco's devastated expression. "It makes sense though doesn't it? More so than any other theory."

Draco shakes his head, denying what Harry was saying. "You wouldn't…"

Harry swallows and turns away. "I don't know… I might have. If I was as…in love with you as you say, then maybe…"

"But you wouldn't be able to do it yourself," Draco points out. "Someone would have had to have done it for you."

Harry chews his lip thoughtfully. "Ron didn't know anything about you or us, so it wasn't him." Harry looks back to Draco. "Hermione. Memory spells are practically her specialty - and that note! She sent me a note asking if I was alright!" Harry pauses, frowning slightly. "But I can't see her agreeing to Obliviate my memory, no matter what the circumstances…"

Draco digests this for a moment. "So… if it _was_ her, then she can reverse it," he replies carefully.

Harry sits back in his seat. "I suppose…"

Draco takes another sip of his coffee before speaking. "You don't want to do that do you?"

Harry feels a painful tug in his heart. "It's not that I don't want to remember, it's just…"

"Oliver."

Harry sighs. "It's not just that. I guess it's strange to think of suddenly having all these er… intimate memories of someone who is almost a complete stranger. Actually it's a bit frightening to think of not knowing you at all one second and then suddenly being in love with you the next. It's just… odd."

Draco takes another sip of his coffee, struggling with his emotions on the inside and trying to remain impassive on the outside.

Harry chews his lip. "But that's not fair is it?" he says slowly.

Draco sets down his mug a little too hard. "Who said life was fair?"

Harry frowns and looks out the window, watching the snowflakes that have doubled in size since he walked in.

"You know, it won't seem 'odd' when you get your memories back because it will be as though you never lost them," Draco says quietly. "You'll remember that you _did_ know me."

Harry feels his pulse race. He didn't know what to do, he didn't have enough time to think about all this right now…

Draco watches him silently. He'd been through so much in the last few weeks and Harry's stubbornness to always do the right thing was starting push him past the limits of his thinning patience. Watching Oliver Wood tell Harry that he loved him and kissing him while in the hospital had wounded him down to the core.

"You don't love Oliver," Draco finally says abruptly. "You've only been dating for three months, we were together for _two years_."

Harry's gaze hardens slightly as he looks at the icy blond. "I believe I have a say in this, and just for your information, Oliver and I have decided to move in together. I'd hardly call that a fling."

Draco's eyes widen in surprise and there is a flash of pain before he blinks and puts on the cool mask of detachment once more.

"I guess that's my answer," he says coldly. "I'd better go."

Harry opens his mouth to speak but Draco rises and drains the rest of his coffee.

"Goodbye Harry," Draco says, not quite meeting his eyes.

Draco turns to leave as Harry abruptly stands, wincing at the painful stiffness in his leg. "Wait!"

Draco pauses, his head turning slightly to the left, indicating that he is listening.

"Where are you staying?" Harry asks. "What if I need to contact you?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

And then he is gone.

Harry slowly sinks back down onto the suede seat. He pushes his plate away, no longer hungry.

There it is again, that horrible feeling as though he's just let someone important walk out of his life forever.

Harry shakes his head and struggles to his feet. He pulls his crutches into place and hobbles home as fast as his weakened limbs will allow.

Harry is panting heavily as he enters his empty flat and shuts the door behind him. He leans back against the door and closes his eyes.

He didn't _want_ to be with Draco Malfoy. Admittedly, the man _was_ attractive and he was a good kisser, but that was it. So why was he having all these doubts? He had Oliver, who was caring and good to him - and perfect really.

Harry opens his eyes. He had given his father's Invisibility Cloak to Draco, and that one action seemed to speak louder than words.

Harry pushes away from the door and makes his way to his bedroom. He drops his crutches to the floor as he sits on the bed and reaches into the drawer of his bedside table.

He lifts out the pearly picture frame and the photograph bursts into life.

Harry watches the blond in the photograph. This young Draco is so happy and carefree, not at all like the weary man that had sat across from him in the coffee shop today.

Harry lightly touches his fingertip to Draco's face in the photograph. Draco seems to pause, looking up sadly, but then he grins and turns back to rest his blond head on Harry's shoulder. Photographic Harry turns to place a gentle kiss to Draco's head and the two share a tender smile.

"Shit," Harry declares, watching the scene with an aching heart.

Harry carefully sets the photograph back into the drawer and removes a piece of parchment and a quill. He quickly begins to write out a letter to the only person who could help him now -

_Dear Hermione…_


	7. The Letter

_Dear Hermione,_

_I'm sorry to bother you on your holiday, and I hope this letter finds both you and Viktor well, but so much has been going on here that I don't know where to begin…_

_This may seem an odd question but, did you Obliviate my memory?_

_I seem to have lost all memory of a Hogwarts student that we attended school with. His name is Draco Malfoy, and apparently everyone thought he was dead for the past two years but he's not. Worst part is, he has provided indisputable proof that he and I were very much in love at one time. And now he's back from where he was kept imprisoned during the war, wanting to pick up where we left off – only, I don't bloody remember him!_

_I'm with Oliver and I'm happy with him, but… but I'm having all these thoughts and feelings for this man that I don't even know. I don't have __**loving**__ feelings for him, but I find him attractive, and I find myself wondering what it would be like to be with him._

_What's wrong with me? This whole situation is tearing me apart. I don't won't to hurt either of them but I don't know what the right thing to do is… _

_Please help! At least let me know if it was indeed you who altered my memory._

_Love,_

_Harry_

_P.S – Please don't tell Ron about any of this. He wasn't aware of our relationship and really doesn't seem to like this Draco Malfoy bloke._


	8. I Can't Take One More Step Towards You

Chapter Seven: I Can't Take One More Step Toward You 'Cause All That's Waiting Is Regret

Harry sighs as he glances out the window, searching the skies for any sign of an incoming owl. It had been some time since he'd sent the letter and a reply should have been forthcoming at any moment. He closes the window after a minute, sweeping some of the piled snow from the ledge into his flat and onto the floor.

Oliver is on his way over with the first load of his things. It's officially 'moving in day.' Harry smiles to himself as he uses his crutches to wander into the lounge and sit down. He knew he and Oliver were good together, the other boy was gentle and kind and oh so patient with him. They never fought and their camaraderie was undeniable.

Draco, on the other hand, had annoyed and angered him on more than one occasion in only the space of a few meetings. The blond was icy, smug, irritating and narcissistic. He was…

Harry glances down at the frame lying on the coffee table in front of him. He picks it up with just the tips of his fingers, as though afraid of being burned, and watches in morbid fascination as the picture flickers to life.

There is nothing icy, smug, irritating or narcissistic about _this_ blond boy. He is undeniably gorgeous, and while the present Draco is still handsome, there is a weariness and sadness there that didn't exist in the past. He is also a touch thinner now, face slightly pointier without the roundness of youthful cheeks. His grey eyes are sparkling with love and joy in the photograph, not wary and haunted as they are now.

Harry shakes his head and sets the frame back down. Oliver would be there any minute and he didn't want to be caught with the photograph. He didn't want Oliver to see it, it would only hurt him.

Draco had made it quite clear that he had had enough of Harry, that he didn't wish to ever see him again, so Harry swallowed and set his shoulders, shoving away any confusing thoughts as much as he could. He hated that he'd hurt Draco but hopefully the blond would move on and life could return to normal.

Oliver bursts through the door at that moment, a large cardboard box in his arms.

Harry waves at him in greeting from the lounge room and Oliver smiles as he drops the heavy box to the tiled floor and stretches his back, his face slightly flushed from exertion.

"Would you mind carrying it to the bedroom?" Oliver deadpans, glancing at Harry's crutches.

Harry raises a brow and flicks his wand, levitating the box up off of the floor and down the hall to his bedroom. _Their_ bedroom now.

Oliver laughs and pretends to glower at him.

"You _are_ a wizard, or have you forgotten?" Harry asks with a smirk.

"Using one's wand for physical labour does not increase muscle mass – no matter what you've been told Potter," Oliver replies, heading to the fridge and grabbing a can of soft drink before joining Harry on the couch.

"Must be why I'm so buff," Harry replies, snatching the cold can and taking a sip before handing it back.

Oliver chuckles and leans back into the couch, slinging one arm around Harry's shoulders as the other boy shuffles over to lean against his side.

"You're freezing," Harry comments as he threads his fingers with Oliver's.

Oliver smiles and takes another sip of Pepsi. "So what do you want for Christmas Harry?"

Harry smiles and lays his head on Oliver's shoulder. "Hmm…. lots of chocolate. And a cat."

"A cat?" Oliver says. "A live one?"

"No a dead one," Harry replies flippantly. "To hang on the wall."

Oliver rolls his eyes and gives him a nudge with his elbow. "You know what I mean. I didn't know you wanted a pet."

"Well, I quite enjoyed Hedwig's company while I had her," Harry says, feeling a twinge of sadness. "And I'd like to have another pet I think."

"What about a dog?"

"I knew you'd be a dog person," Harry smiles and looks up at Oliver. "I don't know. I like dogs but they seem like more work than a cat."

"Perhaps, but they're more fun."

"Well, it's my present and I want a cat," Harry responds with exaggerated petulance.

Oliver grins. "Fine. Just so you know, I'm asking Santa for a dog."

Harry laughs. "Maybe Santa thinks you've been a bad boy this year."

"Hmm… that might be worth it," Oliver says huskily into his ear, giving the lobe a gentle nibble.

Harry smiles and closes his eyes with a pleasant shiver. "Mmm… Santa's into some kinky shit."

Oliver laughs, completely ruining the moment.

Harry grabs the Pepsi from him again and finishes it off. "Are you bringing over any more stuff today?" he asks.

Oliver shakes his head. "No, I've got training in an hour. In fact, I'd better get going."

Harry sits up as Oliver stands and gives another stretch with his arms up over his head.

"Are you going to be alright here on your own?" Oliver asks.

Harry smiles. "Yes yes, I'll be fine. Might go for a walk."

"Don't forget your crutches," Oliver reminds him with narrowed eyes. "You don't want to undo all that good healing."

Harry nods and waves a hand. "Yes mummy, I'll be good."

Oliver smiles and gives him a chaste kiss on the lips. "See ya later."

Harry flops back against the couch once Oliver is gone, his heart happy and light. He was doing the right thing, he could feel it. Oliver was a perfect partner, he couldn't ask for anything more.

A sudden tapping at the window interrupts his pleasant musings. Harry looks over and sees the tiny snowy owl sitting on the window ledge, a response letter tied neatly to its leg.

Harry hoists himself up off of the couch and moves over to the window as fast as his crutches will allow. He throws open the window and a burst of icy wind whips into the room.

The owl instantly takes off as soon as Harry's fingers untie the leather thong to remove the note, clearly not wishing for another trip to Bulgaria any time soon.

Harry shuts the window once more and looks down at the small white envelope in his fingers. As he's about to slit it open, he suddenly feels as though he doesn't want to read the contents. What did it matter if Hermione had cast the spell? She wasn't here to reverse it and he was fairly certain that he didn't _want_ to reverse the spell at this point in time anyway.

Harry stares at the seemingly innocent paper envelope. Things were okay as they were now, weren't they?

He frowns and hobbles down the hall to his bedroom. He sees Oliver's box of possessions sitting on the floor and remembers Oliver's excited smile when he'd entered _their_ flat this afternoon.

His mind made up, Harry goes over to the bedside table and dumps the unopened letter into it.

He returns to the kitchen, feeling quite pleased about his decision to ignore the letter. He throws a heat-up meal into his muggle microwave for lunch and unrolls the morning's Daily Prophet while he waits.

He blinks in surprise at the photograph on the front page. There's Draco in black and white in front of the remains of what appears to have been a rather grand building. The title of the story is 'Malfoy Heir Returns from the Dead, Set to Reconstruct the Infamous Malfoy Manor.'

Harry scans the article, skimming over all the information that he already knew about Draco's sudden reappearance, his family and his plans to restore his parent's home. It mentions that he is staying in Diagon Alley until construction is complete which will be in about four months. It also mentions that the Slytherin has no known relations or friends, hinting at the cause being due to his unfortunate family history.

Harry winces at the sympathetic stab to his heart that that line of text conjures, not to mention the accompanying stab of guilt.

The microwave bell dings behind him as he stares at the moving photograph; Draco is glancing at the ruins behind him and then turning to the camera with a proud yet tight-lipped smile. Harry bites his lip at the sadness that is shining in Draco's eyes, obvious to any keen observer even in black and white.

Harry toys with the idea of maybe visiting the site to see if Draco is there. Maybe they could be friends, or at least casual acquaintances. He'd learnt enough of the blond to know that he would never ask for help or admit weakness of any sort, which he would surely deem needing a friend as.

Harry removes the hot plastic tray from the microwave and sits down to eat the somewhat horrid meal. As soon as the warm food is settled in his stomach, he stands back up with the aid of his crutches and looks around. He can already feel the boredom building up and so decides that no harm can come of him going to have a look at the 'Infamous Malfoy Manor.'

Harry puts on his warmest cloak, his woollen gloves and a thick grey beanie* before heading out of doors and Apparating to Diagon Alley.

The snow is falling in tiny sparse flakes as he makes his way painfully slow up the cobble stoned street on his crutches. He heads for the pub and waves to attract Tom's attention.

"Why Harry, I haven't seen you for ages," Tom greets him warmly from behind the polished wooden bar top. "What can I get you?"

Harry smiles in return and shifts his weight, his left leg twinging a little. "Nothing Tom, just thought you might know where Malfoy Manor is?"

Tom raises a brow. "In the southeast, Wiltshire. Why the sudden interest? Read the story in the paper did you?"

Harry nods. "Yeah, I went to school with Draco Malfoy so I thought I'd see how he's going," he replies casually.

"Official Auror business?" Tom asks, tapping his nose secretively.

Harry smiles and shakes his head. "Not at all, just a meeting of old friends."

Tom appears confused but doesn't comment. "You won't catch him there now my boy."

"Oh really? Why not?" Harry asks, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"Because he's here," comes a voice from beside him.

Harry turns his head sharply to the right to see Draco Malfoy in the flesh sitting down at one of the tables fixing him with an intense glare. Harry immediately feels an embarrassed flush stain his cheeks at being caught out.

Draco stands and walks over. "What are you doing here Harry?"

Harry shifts, glancing at Tom who is listening avidly. "Thought I'd check out… erm…" Suddenly his bright idea of seeing Draco's home for himself seems like such a ridiculous notion.

"Malfoy Manor," Tom supplies helpfully.

"Er yeah," Harry agrees lamely.

Draco watches him for a moment then sighs resignedly. "Alright, come with me. I was just on my way over."

"See ya around Harry," Tom grins with a friendly wave.

Harry forces a quick smile before following Draco back outside into the softly falling snow, struggling to keep up on his awkward crutches and sore leg.

Draco stops and waits for him.

"Can you Apparate?" he asks shortly.

Harry stops beside him, slightly taken aback by the sneer on the blond's face. "Yes," he replies indignantly, even though he was pretty sure that in his present condition he stood a good chance of crumbling to his knees on the other side.

Draco nods. "I'll meet you in the laneway at the southern end of town." He disappears with a loud crack.

Harry wavers, considering _not_ following him, but then with a determined set of his shoulders, he Apparates to Wiltshire.

Harry gasps upon the jarring landing and just manages to keep himself upright thanks to his sturdy crutches. He takes a deep breath as he waits for the stab of pain in his left thigh to recede. He's beginning to wonder if perhaps he isn't remaining immobile enough for his leg to heal properly, as his arm, ribs and head seemed perfectly fine.

He opens his eyes and can just make out Draco about a kilometre away, looking impatient even at that distance.

Harry really didn't want to Apparate again so he chanced Draco's wrath and began to hobble along in the snow on his crutches.

Draco appears at his side in an instant. "Why aren't you Apparating? You're moving at a snail's pace."

Harry clenches his teeth and keeps moving.

"Bloody Gryffindors," Draco sighs and then reaches out for Harry's arm.

"No!" Harry's cry is lost as they whirl away and appear in a small laneway on the outskirts of town.

Harry swallows the whimper of pain threatening to erupt upon his arrival and again nearly caves to the ground due to his weak muscles.

Draco keeps a steady hand on his arm until Harry recovers his balance and then releases him.

Harry glares at him. "I didn't _want_ to Apparate."

Draco sneers. "Suck it up Potter."

Harry gapes wordlessly as Draco pushes past to enter the long drive to their left. If he'd been healthy enough, he would've directly Apparated out of there again back home. At least this visit was cementing his choice to not look at the letter, and to not entertain silly notions of leaving Oliver for this prat.

Harry releases a heavy breath and begins to follow Draco at a leisurely pace, trying to ignore the pain in his leg. He looks around him as he walks up the extraordinarily long drive towards where the house once stood. There are high manicured yew hedges on either side following the drive up to a pair of dark wrought iron gates. Strangely, the hedges and gates are all perfectly intact, only the house seems to have been affected by the attack.

Draco keeps moving without looking back, pushing through the gates with a wave of his wand.

Harry refuses to hurry and leisurely continues on his way. He squints into the distance at the construction that is already taking place on the house. All the rubble had been removed and new framework was being put into place, dozens of wizards in uniform working away on all sides.

Harry always wondered about wizarding construction work, if it was done purely with magic or by hand. It looked as though it was a combination of the two. Wands were out to direct and lift and levitate, but things were still hammered into place by hand.

He would've had a few questions for Draco if the blond had bothered to stay with him, as it was, Malfoy – as he was going to refer to him from now on, he decided – was standing at the edge of the work site, arms crossed over his chest, observing.

Harry finally walks up beside him and stops, panting slightly from the extended effort. He was definitely going to remain indoors for the next few days to recover.

"I don't know why you want to see this," Draco says suddenly into the silence between them. "They've only just begun."

Harry leans on his crutches and looks around at all the activity. "I've never been here, er… have I?"

Draco shakes his head, eyes still glued to the construction.

"And I wanted to see what wizarding construction methods were like," Harry continues honestly.

"I am sure there are a dozen other homes being built in the immediate area which you could've gone to stick your nose in," Draco replies flatly.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry turns to look at him and then quickly continues when Draco's mouth opens furiously. "I mean, I _know_ what your problem is with me, but… I know you don't have many friends now, or at all-" Draco almost cuts in again but Harry pushes on, "-so I thought maybe you would appreciate my effort to be friends."

Draco's nostrils flare delicately and he is clearly working through some intense thoughts as he stands there in silence.

Harry chews his lip, wondering if he was pushing it. "It looks like the grounds are still in good order, how about a tour?"

Harry holds his breath, not really wanting to do any more walking but knowing it would be a good start for some semblance of normal conversation.

Draco finally sighs in reluctant acceptance and drops his arms down to his sides. "Fine, follow me."

The two meander down around the construction zone to the back gardens.

Harry's eyes widen in shock. The expansive grounds were beyond beautiful; lush green lawns, intricate garden beds with perfectly planted rows of flowers (which would be absolutely breath-taking in the spring and summer), large fig trees and willows with huge hanging branches, fountains and ponds dotting the landscape, and there were even white peacocks wandering amongst the scenery, pecking at the ground.

"Oh my god…" Harry breathes, taking it all in.

Draco glances at him and allows a small smile. "You approve then?"

Harry swallows and nods. "It's beautiful! Merlin, you have a paradise here Draco," he says in awe, forgetting his promise to refer to him as Malfoy.

Draco's smile softens as he looks around him. "Yeah, it really is. You should see it in summer." His voice gains more and more enthusiasm as he speaks. "I can't wait until the house is complete, it will be ready again just in time for the spring. I have so many fond memories of this place…"

Harry glances at him and smiles at the content look on his face. "I'd like to see it again once it's finished."

Draco looks over and his smile slips a little. He looks away and then back out at the grounds again. "Would you like to see the hedge maze?"

"Hedge maze?" Harry repeats in excitement. "Of course!"

Draco points and leads the way across the snow-covered grounds towards the labyrinth of dark hedges to the left.

"I would've thought that you had had enough of hedge mazes after the Tri-wizard Tournament," Draco says as they walk, keeping his pace slow in order for Harry to keep up.

Harry keeps his eyes on the uneven ground as he limps along. "I steered clear of them for awhile," he answers. "But honestly, I love mazes. There's just something so exciting and adventurous about them."

"And dangerous?" Draco adds with an arch of his blond brow.

Harry grins without looking up. "Perhaps."

Draco smiles. "Well my father commissioned this maze himself, so there _are_ elements of the hazardous variety in there."

"Still?" Harry asks curiously.

"No," Draco replies, almost sounding sad. "The Ministry had it 'cleared out' for safety reasons."

Harry chuckles. "Too bad."

"Not that you're in any shape for adventures Potter," Draco quips.

"True," Harry agrees with a sigh.

They continue in silence for a few minutes, their breath puffing out in little white clouds in front of them in the frosty air.

"So how are you after the accident?" Draco asks.

Harry pushes on, his arms beginning to ache with the effort. "I'm alright. Leg is still a bit weak but… I'll recover."

Draco nods, looking at the ground.

"I wanted to thank you," Harry says carefully. "For all your help when I was injured, for bringing me to the hospital and all."

"Don't worry about it," Draco replies nonchalantly.

"I just want you to know how much I appreciated it, especially being there for when I first woke up."

Draco swallows and looks into the distance at the black swans gliding across the glassy surface of the pond. "I know how much you hate being in hospital. Alone."

Instead of being irritated with another tidbit of his life that Draco knew about, Harry just felt lucky. Lucky that someone he knew had been there, or at least, someone who knew _him_ and who cared.

"Thanks," Harry said gratefully, deciding not to thank him for notifying Oliver as well as that might push their tentative new friendship in the wrong direction.

"Well here it is," Draco says with a grand flourish of one arm as they stop in front of the entrance.

Harry stares up at the impressive ten foot high hedges. "Wow…"

"Care for a little competition?" Draco asks with a smirk.

Harry shakes his head ruefully. "Not today I'm afraid, I'm about ready to collapse. When I'm fully recovered again I'll return to kick your ass Malfoy."

Draco laughs, feeling a sense of déjà vu as he and Harry banter back and forth. He tries not to think about the sadness this will cause him after Harry's imminent departure. "How about we sit on the bench for a bit?" he suggests.

Harry accepts his proposal with a grateful nod. He collapses wearily onto the nearby stone bench and lets his crutches fall to the frozen ground.

Draco sits beside him as they stare out at the serene landscape. The construction work seems to be muffled by spells as no noise reaches their ears, only the sweet sounds of the birds and the wind rustling in the trees disturbs the peace.

"I'm glad I came," Harry says quietly, cautiously stretching his left leg out in front of him.

Draco looks down at his gloved hands, suddenly noticing that they are wringing uncharacteristically. He immediately stops and lays them in his lap.

"I am too," he answers briefly then turns to look at him. "Look Harry, if you truly want to be friends then I think I would like that, but… I'd rather not see you for awhile. I just need some time and space."

Harry nods and meets those soft grey eyes. "That's fair," he concedes with a small smile. "How long do you want?"

Draco laughs, the sound slightly bitter in the cool air. "I don't know. How about I write when I'm ready?"

"How about when the house is finished?" Harry suggests. "That's four months."

Draco smiles and nods in acquiescence. "That sounds about right."

"You don't need to write," Harry says offhandedly. "I'm sure it will be in the paper."

Draco rolls his eyes. "Apparently there are no other news worthy events happening this week."

"I don't know, returning from the dead sounds pretty news worthy to me."

"Perhaps if I _was_ actually dead," Draco responds lightly.

Harry smiles and watches one of the peacocks wander closer to them, its head tilted quizzically to one side.

"Did these birds survive the attack?" Harry asks curiously.

"They must have," Draco replies, following Harry's gaze to the peacock. "There's a few missing which may have been scared off, but most of them seem to have returned. Probably helps that the ponds are heated."

Harry shakes his head in amusement. "First class accommodation for the birds too?"

"But of course."

They lapse back into comfortable silence, the snow beginning to fall with a little more frequency now.

Harry sighs in relief as the pain and stiffness in his leg abates somewhat. He was starting to shiver in the increasing chill though.

"Do you want to go somewhere for a coffee or hot chocolate?" Harry asks.

"Alright," Draco agrees amiably and rises.

Harry leans down for his crutches and struggles to his feet. Draco looks at him worriedly.

"I hate being injured," Harry says with a careless smile once he's standing.

"Do you want to Apparate from here?" Draco asks, detecting the quiver in Harry's weakened limb. "We can side-along."

"Yeah," Harry accepts gratefully. "Thanks."

Draco smiles and grasps Harry's arm before Apparating the two of them back into town, directly in front of a posh café. He steadies Harry on arrival before leading the way into the shop.

Harry quickly notices that the shops in Wiltshire are of the upper crust variety, as well as the patrons. The few witches and wizards seated inside are dressed impeccably, sipping their coffees and conversing in important muted tones.

Draco smiles knowingly at him before taking a seat at the nearest table so that Harry doesn't need to hobble too far.

Harry drops into the seat and gives a loud exclamation of surprise as the surface of the chair is not only extremely soft and cushioned but also heated.

Draco smirks at the look on Harry's face. Harry catches his eye and they both dissolve into quiet laughter, trying to keep it in. The environment is so quiet that a pin could be heard, which of course in turn, makes it all the harder to stop laughing once they've begun. An old spinster in maroon robes next to them gives them a reproving glare.

"Sorry madam," Draco apologizes with a slight bow.

The woman rolls her eyes and returns to her book.

Harry snickers behind his hand at the woman's reaction and tries to distract himself with looking at the little menu. His eyes widen at the prices and he lets out a low whistle.

Draco snorts and kicks him under the table. "It's on me Potter."

Harry looks up. "Oh, well then I'll have the most expensive hot drink followed by the most expensive pastry," he says, closing his menu and placing it atop the round table.

Draco arches a brow, accepting the challenge, and folds his menu, placing it on top of Harry's. He signals to the waitress and she strides over, her slightly upturned nose held aloft.

"My friend and I shall both have triple shot Kopi Luwak coffees with a plate of white truffles," he orders imperiously.

Her eyes widen marginally before nodding. "Very good sir," she says before disappearing again.

Harry chortles and opens his menu to see what they are getting. "Shit Draco," he says in shock. "Those truffles cost 1200 galleons a kilo!"

Draco smirks, an expression that Harry was quickly becoming accustomed to, and truth be told, finding irresistibly cute.

Harry shakes his head with a smile and lays the menu back down. "Good thing I know your loaded, or else I might feel guilty."

Draco's smirk morphs into a smile as he toys with the polished silverware.

Harry relaxes back into his lovely heated seat, the warmth seeping into his injured leg and curing any lingering soreness.

"So when do you return to work?" Draco asks conversationally.

"In about five days," Harry replies, then frowns. "But they want me to stick to my desk for at least another month or two."

"That's probably a good idea," Draco comments.

"I hate being stuck in the office," Harry says grumpily. "I didn't become an Auror to fill out paperwork."

"You don't want to be a liability though, do you?"

Harry sighs and glances up. "You sound like my supervisor."

Draco smiles and looks up to see their waitress approaching the table with two coffees.

Harry pulls the warm glass towards him once she's left and inhales the strong aroma. "Wow… smells nice."

"It had better taste nice too for that price," Draco murmurs.

Harry takes a tentative sip and closes his eyes. "Mmm… it's delicious."

Draco takes a sip of his own and sets the glass back down with satisfaction. "I was thinking about possibly getting a job with the Ministry," he broaches quietly.

Harry chokes a little and puts his coffee down. "Really? Doing what?"

"I'm not sure, perhaps something with potions research or curse breaking. I do have a lot of experience with all kinds of magic; both light and dark."

Harry nods thoughtfully. "You should. It will keep you busy."

"Is that why you do it?" Draco asks in amusement.

Harry grins. "Yeah, kind of. I don't need to work but I would be so bored without it."

Draco pauses. "You wouldn't mind my working there?"

Harry meets his gaze and smiles. "Not at all."

"I might speak to someone next week. There's not much else I can do while waiting for the house to be finished. You really don't mind?"

Harry swallows another sip of the rich coffee. "Of course not."

"Will _Oliver_ mind?"

Harry purses his lips, thinking. "I don't see why he should, you wouldn't be working in my department. Plus, that wouldn't say much for the trust he puts in me now would it?"

Draco nods seriously. "Did you move in together yet?"

Harry notes that Draco's voice is without bitterness or malice. Perhaps he is already moving on with his life. "Sort of, Oliver moved some things in today before he had training."

"And… you're happy?" Draco asks, grey eyes finally flicking up to Harry's face, searching.

Harry smiles a little and gives a brief nod of affirmation.

Draco takes another sip of coffee and swallows. "Good," he answers vaguely.

Harry chews his lip, wanting a subject change. He sees the waitress returning with their truffles and perks up.

The haughty waitress sets the plate down in the middle of the table. "Enjoy gentlemen."

Harry gently plucks one of the small truffles off of the plate and holds it in front of his face for closer inspection.

"I can't believe this is worth so much…" he says wonderingly.

Draco smiles, snapping out of his melancholy reverie and snatching a truffle. He then pops it directly into his mouth.

Harry can't help but laugh at the expression of blissful ecstasy on Draco's face.

"Those are worth every knut," the blond finally surmises after swallowing.

Harry delicately bites into the little brown morsel and blinks at the explosion of flavour on his tongue. He quickly pops the rest of it into his mouth and closes his eyes.

"Yum," he pronounces emphatically once he's finished.

"Well said," Draco smirks, causing a little tingle in Harry's stomach.

Harry merely smiles and snatches another one. "I'm going to eat them all if you don't help out," he warns.

Draco smiles and they continue munching on the tiny delicacies in between unimportant chatter for much of the afternoon.

"Welcome back Harry!" Ron grins in greeting, peering around the door frame of Harry's office.

Harry looks up with a smile from behind his desk. "Hey."

Ron enters and collapses gracelessly into the only other chair. "How's the leg?"

Harry shrugs as he slides the folder shut in front of him. "It's fine." Truth be told it was still healing much too slowly for Harry's taste, and still twinging with pain at random intervals.

"You really hate being stuck behind a desk don't you?" Ron chuckles at Harry's gloomy expression.

Harry smiles reluctantly as he leans back in his chair and stretches. "Yeah, it's total crap."

"I haven't talked to you in ages," Ron suddenly says. "Did you see that article about Malfoy in the paper?"

Harry stiffens and tries to appear casual. "Yeah, what about it?"

"It'd be typical of that prat to rebuild Malfoy Manor – dungeons and all – before continuing his good father's legacy," he says, unusually harsh.

"Maybe he just wants somewhere to live," Harry supplies casually. "He grew up there, he probably has fond memories of his life with his parents when they were still alive."

Ron snorts and shakes his head. "You talk about him as though he's human! I know you've lost your memory, but Merlin it's strange to hear you defend him."

Harry forces a smile as he unconsciously toys with the frayed edge of the paper folder lying in front of him. He was not going to allow his opinion of Draco to be swayed, he was determined to make up his own mind with regards to the blond's character. As subtle and mysterious as the aristocrat was, Harry could not honestly see any truly malicious traits. He did not seem like a Death Eater in training nor the next Voldemort, nor would he have ever deemed to begin a relationship with him if he'd ever suspected as much in the past.

He smiles as he thinks back on their afternoon together in Wiltshire not five days ago. After a bit of a bumpy start, the experience had been surprisingly pleasant.

"Harry?"

Harry blinks and looks up. "Huh?"

Ron rolls his eyes. "Stop mooning over your boyfriend."

"What?" Harry splutters.

"You had a dreamy grin on your face," he explains, then promptly grimaces. "Please tell me you weren't thinking about your last shag."

Harry can feel the heat rise in his cheeks as he struggles for a dignified response.

Ron moans and covers his face with his hands. "Oh Merlin, you were!"

"I was not!" Harry hisses.

Ron removes his hands and looks at him with a frown. "You weren't smiling about _Malfoy_ were you?"

Harry's eyes widen a fraction at the red-head's unusually intuitive accusation. "What makes you think that? I don't even know him."

Ron gazes at him speculatively for a moment then shrugs. "I'd better return to work, see you at lunch. Enjoy your desk job!" he grins before standing and exiting.

Harry smiles and waves him off before dropping his head onto his arms with a loud sigh. He had been doing that all week, drifting off into little daydreams which seemed to centre around one Draco Malfoy. He was acting obviously distracted and even Oliver had begun to notice.

The day dreams themselves were harmless enough, nothing remotely sexual about them, but he couldn't kid himself as to the frequency of them and what it might mean.

Harry slid his fingers into his hair and pulled. What was the matter with him? He didn't like to think of himself as one of those men that was excited or intrigued by the thought of having an affair. He had always been a one man kind of man. He _liked_ monogamy and close intimate relationships, so why was a part of him so enthralled with the idea of spending time with Draco? Was it guilt?

Harry heaves another heavy sigh and lifts his head to rest his chin on folded arms.

Maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to think that perhaps it would be for the best if he did indeed have his memories returned.

He frowned and rubbed at his dry eyes. He didn't like making decisions and then changing his mind, it was not a trait that he approved of – in anyone, least of all himself. He had chosen to stick it out with Oliver.

Harry snorts wryly and closes his eyes. Did he really just make it sound like his relationship with Oliver was an obligation? Or worse yet, a chore?

He hadn't even peeked at Hermione's letter; the envelope lay unopened in his drawer where he'd dumped it upon its arrival.

Harry opens his eyes and stares out into the hallway, watching the various Ministry personnel stride past purposefully.

His thigh gives another twinge and he absently flexes the muscles as he stretches out his leg beneath the desk. He really hated that he was chained to his desk, a good battle right about now would be the perfect cure for his chaotic thoughts.

Harry sits up and reopens the case in front of him once more, forcing himself to concentrate and forget about his messed up personal life.

The strangest sense of déjà vu washes over him at that last thought.

Harry looks up as Oliver comes banging through the front door of the flat. It's eight-thirty in the evening and Harry had the television on in front of him and an empty dinner plate from his tea two hours ago. He wasn't paying any attention to the tv program but rather to the frame lying blank in his lap. It had been two weeks since his visit with Draco and not much had changed; Hermione's letter still remained locked and sealed within his bedside table, and his thoughts still swirled uselessly over what to do.

His indecisive and distractive behaviour was definitely creating a ripple effect in his relationship with Oliver.

"Hey," Harry greets him, looking up. "You're late tonight, long game?"

Oliver dumps his bag on the floor of the kitchen and walks into the lounge, expression stormy. "Yeah, fucking coach, he treats me like a trainee sometimes, thinks I've never played a game in my life."

Oliver crosses his arms over his chest and glances down at Harry. He frowns slightly when he sees the frame lying in his lap.

Harry unconsciously moves it to the coffee table, face down. "Did you win?" he asks.

Oliver sighs and rubs a hand over his face as he collapses wearily into the armchair. "No."

Harry flicks off the television and turns his attention to his boyfriend, worrying his bottom lip as Oliver sits in the chair and not next to him on the couch as per usual.

"How was your day?" Oliver finally asks, leaning his head back against the chair and looking over.

Harry smiles with a shrug. "As good as it can be I suppose. I'm itching to get back out into the field."

A small smile cracks Oliver's stony expression. "You've got to learn some patience Harry, you still have another month and a half of desk duty ahead of you."

Harry groans. "Don't remind me," he says despairingly.

Oliver chuckles and moves over to the couch, snatching the tv remote off of him and settling back.

Harry rolls his eyes as Oliver immediately switches the channel to the sports station. He really was dating a 'jock.'

"Do you want some dinner?" Harry asks, picking up his plate and standing, ready to head back into the kitchen. "It's keeping warm on the stove."

"Yeah, that'd be great," Oliver replies, staring at the tv screen. "Thanks."

Harry turns and walks with a slight limp into the kitchen. He'd finished with his crutches but he still wasn't one hundred percent yet. He knew deep down that remaining on desk duty was a good idea for awhile yet. Draco was right when he'd said that Harry would only be a liability in his present condition.

Harry sets his dirty plate into the sink and then makes up a new plate for Oliver, filling it with roast chicken and vegetables.

Harry re-enters the lounge and stops in the doorway. Oliver was holding the photo frame and looking at it with narrowed eyes.

"Why do you always look at this thing?" the other boy asks, tone belying the tense emotion lying beneath the seemingly innocent question.

Harry walks forward and places Oliver's plate on the coffee table. He hovers just next to him, watching Oliver twist and turn the pearly frame in his hands.

"It's just a memento," Harry replies easily, "from Hogwarts."

"Why don't you put a photo in it?"

Harry shrugs even though Oliver isn't looking at him. "I just like the frame."

"Was it a gift?" Oliver finally looks up.

"No," Harry lies smoothly, without elaborating.

Oliver looks back down at it. "It's magical is it not?"

Harry's pulse increases as he suddenly doesn't want the conversation to continue any longer. "I'll put it away…"

Harry reaches out for the frame with one hand and Oliver hesitates a moment before handing it over.

Harry grasps it by the top, ready to flip it over and away from Oliver's prying eyes, but finds that Oliver isn't letting go. Harry gasps as Oliver clings to the frame and watches the picture flicker to life.

Harry immediately relinquishes his hold but it's too late, the damage has been done. He stands waiting for the backlash that is to follow.

"Why did you lie to me?"

Harry is taken by surprise with the sad tone of Oliver's voice where he had been expecting fury. He runs a hand nervously through his hair once before answering. "Because I knew you wouldn't like it."

Oliver looks up sharply. "If you are entertaining the idea of leaving me for him than I have the right to know, or were you just going to keep it quiet and blindside me?"

"No, it's not like that," Harry says, moving his hands around in agitation.

"Then why in Merlin's name are you staring at it all the time?" Oliver demands, his tone rising.

"I don't know alright!" Harry exclaims. "You can't know how strange this is for me. That photo shows me with a man that I don't even know! I can't help but wonder what happened back then, I mean, we were together for _two years_!"

Oliver rises quickly, the frame still clenched in one hand. "Stop being such a coward and tell me what you're thinking then!"

"That's the problem," Harry fires back. "I'm not thinking anything!"

Oliver's eyes flash and Harry finally sees the expected fury. "Is there a chance that you may want to be with him again?"

"N-" Harry stops the automatically negative response that is on the tip of his tongue. It wasn't fair to reply when he didn't know, no matter how slim that chance seemed in the heat of the moment. "I… don't know."

Oliver stares at him a moment then turns and throws the frame at the nearest wall.

Harry watches as it seems to smash against the wall in slow motion, shattering into pieces and falling to the floor like glittering raindrops.

Harry turns to Oliver, more furious than he'd felt in a very long time. "What the fuck did you do that for?" he grinds out between clenched teeth, hands fisted at his sides.

Oliver meets Harry's fierce gaze with his own. "Why do you care?" he spits out. "You don't _care_ for him."

Harry narrows his eyes dangerously. "That doesn't give you the right to smash my personal belongings, no matter what sort of unreasonable jealous rage you're in!"

"Unreasonable?" Oliver hisses. "I think I am fully within my rights to be pissed off with you Harry! Is it too much to expect honesty in a relationship?"

Harry takes a step back and lowers his gaze, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. Oliver was right, Harry had not been honest at all. It didn't matter if he didn't know what he wanted for himself, he should have discussed his concerns with Oliver from the start.

"You're right," Harry finally admits quietly. "I should've talked to you. I'm sorry." He looks back up at Oliver and releases a heavy breath. All of a sudden he felt hollow and empty. "I don't think I should be with anyone right now."

Oliver opens his mouth then closes it again. He shakes his head a little then nods, seeming to agree. His brown eyes are full of sadness when he finally looks up at Harry.

And raises his wand.

Harry freezes, emerald eyes widening is disbelief. "Oliver…"

"I'm sorry Harry," Oliver says, wand steadily pointing straight at him.

Harry curses the fact that he's left his wand in his cloak. "What-"

"Finite Incantatem."

Harry reels backwards as the spell hits him, overwhelmed with a sudden onslaught of light-headedness. He gasps and falls to his knees, head in his hands. He feels as though the entire room is tilting off of its axis and spinning out of control for a full minute before slowly coming to a stop once more.

Harry opens his eyes, his stomach churning nauseously, and slowly looks up with horrified disbelief etched across his face. "It was you," he whispers in anguish. "_You_ Obliviated my memory…."

* Beanie: British/Australian term for the Canadian 'toque' or American winter hat. Usually made of wool that fits tight to your head. Not a hat with a propeller on top. (I'm a Canadian living in Australia who is married to a Brit, so my vocabulary and slang terminology is all over the shop).


	9. You're Gonna Catch a Cold

_**Chapter Nine: You're Gonna Catch A Cold from the Ice Inside Your Soul**_

_Harry opens his eyes, his stomach churning nauseously, and slowly looks up with horrified disbelief etched across his face. "It was you," he whispers in anguish. "__**You**__ Obliviated my memory…"_

Oliver slowly lowers his wand, his brown eyes watching it as though surprised by his own actions.

Harry closes his eyes and unconsciously places one hand to his chest as he's suddenly slammed with a gamut of emotions; ranging from furiousness with Oliver for what he'd done to dizzying euphoria at the fact that Draco was _still_ _alive_. The memories had returned so swiftly that his head was swimming with the added information, as though the memories had just barely been able to squeeze in between the spaces of his life as he'd previously known it.

The memory of Draco and their relationship fill him with a warm glow, their past seeming to come alive with colour and light in his mind's eye. Two years worth of secret friendship, laughter, love and passion pass through his consciousness as though on fast forward. Then just as quickly the period of his life where he had thought that Draco was dead comes to the forefront; his depression and emptiness with which he had lived his life, his secret battle to continue on without giving in to the darkness…

He swallows thickly and opens his eyes. He stands slowly, his right hand twitching as though craving a wand. "Explain," he says shortly, unable to voice anything else in that moment.

Oliver looks up and straightens his shoulders, meeting Harry's gaze challengingly. "You asked me- no _begged_ me to Obliviate you."

Harry frowns, trying to pluck that particular memory from his foggy mind. "I don't remember that."

"Of course not," Oliver replies with a hard edge to his voice. "You were completely inebriated at the time."

Harry takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out. "You Obliviated me because I asked you to when I was _drunk_? Why on earth would you even consider it?"

Oliver's eyes flash with anger. "Don't you dare try to blame me Harry Potter. Hermione had to knock you out with a fairly strong spell to drag your sorry arse back here and then I enervated you and you positively _begged_ me to alter your memory."

Harry opens his mouth to speak but Oliver rushes on.

"You said you couldn't go on like you were any longer, that for us to have a chance I would have to remove him from your memory. You said you wanted to give your whole self to me but that you couldn't because of him. Tell me Harry, what was I supposed to do?"

Oliver's voice had broken with emotion by the end and Harry forces himself to take a moment before replying.

"Alright…" he says calmly. "I suppose I can understand you Obliviating my memory, but then when Draco showed up alive and well, why didn't you tell me? Why did you lie to my face about not knowing what was going on?"

"I wanted to see if you _could_ fall in love with me," Oliver replies quietly, looking ashamed for the first time, and then he lifts his chin, eyes darkening. "I wasn't about to just send you off into the arms of another man."

"But he isn't just some ex boyfriend of mine," Harry says incredulously. "You _knew_ our history, you knew how much he meant to me. The decision for me to remain with you because I didn't know all the facts wasn't yours to make! Tell me, would you really have been satisfied with a life together knowing that I was only with you because you removed Draco from my memory?"

"But it's not fair," Oliver cries, shifting his weight and fixing Harry with an intense stare. "He had his chance, it had been nearly two years, you'd moved on."

"We both know that's not true," Harry replies evenly, looking into Oliver's eyes. "Or else you wouldn't have had to Obliviate me."

Oliver sighs and looks away, eyes gazing unseeing through the large paned windows on the far wall.

"You obviously don't trust me," Harry says, watching him. "Or else you would have let me make the decision myself."

Oliver's eyes snap back to him. "And who would you have chosen Harry?" he asks sharply.

"That's not the point-"

"Oh come off it Harry, we both know who would win here!"

Harry crosses his arms over his chest and takes a step back. "Do you know Draco never once asked me to leave you? As much as I've hurt him these past few weeks, all he cares about is my happiness."

"Malfoy is a Slytherin and he doesn't deserve you, nor do I trust him."

Harry's eyes narrow dangerously. "You don't know him like I do. And just who owled you when I was in the hospital? Does that sound like the actions of a man intent on trying to keep me for himself or the actions of a selfish Slytherin?"

Oliver presses his lips together thinly.

Harry sighs wearily and runs a hand through his hair, his left leg is throbbing from standing for so long, his muscles tense. "This arguing is useless," he finally says quietly. "I don't want to fight with you."

The other man pauses then slowly slips his wand back into the waistband of his trousers and looks up with a defeated look in his eyes. "I'm going to go. I'll get my things later."

Harry uncrosses his arms. "Oliver…" He sighs and shakes his head. "I don't know what to say, this wasn't supposed to happen."

Oliver stops beside him and adds quietly. "Just so you know, I would never have altered your memory if I'd known there was a chance that Malfoy was still alive."

Harry swallows and nods. "I know. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry things turned out this way."

Oliver's smile is tinged with sadness. "Me too."

Harry watches him leave, suddenly feeling extraordinarily guilty. Oliver had been so good to him for so long, patiently waiting for Harry to recover from Draco's death, only to have this happen to him in the end. Harry always thought he deserved better and he was right. Oliver's actions, while still morally wrong, had been those of a man in love who did not want to lose everything.

Harry listens to the door click behind Oliver and he is left in silence. As much as he tries to stop it, a smile begins to light his face as his thoughts turn to his reunion with Draco.

_Draco is alive, Draco is alive, Draco is alive…_

Harry's head is filled with the joyful mantra as he suddenly grins. He couldn't wait to see the blond's face when he found him and told him that he had his memory back; that the life they had always wanted together was finally within their grasp. He knew he had a lot to make up for but he couldn't wait to start.

He heads for the door, just remembering to grab his cloak at the last second before stepping into the hallway and Apparating to Diagon Alley.

"Why Harry lad, what have I done to deserve a second visit in such a short time?" Tom asks with a friendly wink.

Harry smiles and hopes he isn't glowing as brightly as he feels. "I'm after Mr Malfoy again, is he around?"

"Draco Malfoy?" Tom replies, puzzling over it. "No, haven't seem him around for awhile."

Harry's smile drops. "Oh. Do you know where he's staying?"

Tom shakes his head. "Might want to try over at the Manor, I believe he's usually over there most days."

Harry glances at the clock and is doubtful that Draco would be at the construction site so late in the evening. "Okay, thanks Tom."

Harry retreats from the pub back out into Diagon Alley. He really did not want to wait until tomorrow to find Draco. He was fairly jumping out of his skin with desperation to see and touch his lover again, the treasured moments of passion and love from their past now firmly ensconced into his memories once more.

Harry decides to Apparate to the Manor in the off chance that Draco is still there and because he had to do _something_.

He approaches the wrought iron gates and pushes through, hoping that there aren't any dangerous wards in place. He can see a few construction workers packing up for the day and he quickly hurries over.

"Excuse me," he says as he approaches. "I'm looking for Draco Malfoy, is he around?"

One of the young men in orange robes looks up and his eyes widen in recognition. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry smiles and nods, hoping that his celebrity will garner some co-operation from them.

"Wow, er… Mr Malfoy isn't here," he replies, eyes still on Harry's trade-mark scar. "He's on holiday for a couple of weeks."

"Holiday?" Harry repeats in disappointment. "Where?"

"Dunno." He shrugs, eyes coming back to meet Harry's green eyes. "Care to join us for a pint? We're just on our way to the pub."

Harry smiles and shakes his head. "No thanks, I gotta get home. Thanks for the information."

"Any time," the young man replies with a flirtatious wink.

Harry smiles and hastily walks the length of the drive back to the private laneway, limping slightly on his sore leg. He immediately Apparates back home to his flat.

He feels a tiny twinge of loneliness as he enters the quiet apartment and shuts the door. He had gotten used to having Oliver there to greet him and he missed the company.

Harry shakes his head and locks the door. He throws his cloak back onto the rack and returns to the lounge. His gaze immediately catches on the broken shards of the picture frame still lying by the wall.

Harry removes his wand and gives it a flick, the pieces of glass float into the air and then come back together as though it had never been shattered.

Harry catches the fixed frame in his hand and smiles sadly; the enchantment had been forever broken. He just hoped that Draco perhaps had another copy of the photograph.

He places the frame back onto the coffee table with reverence and stares at it a moment before heading off to bed. He knew it would be hours before he would be able to sleep that night, but hopefully his dreams would be filled with images of a certain grey-eyed Slytherin.

**. . . .**

Harry walks into his office the next morning and stops when he sees a bright red folder on his desk. The colour of the folder meant only one thing: that one of the Ministry's wanted Death Eaters had been spotted.

Harry eagerly walks over and collects the folder, flipping it open to the first page. There is a small photo of a stooped wizard with a severely pock-marked face glaring up at him. The name 'Augustus Rookwood' is scrawled along the heading.

Harry sits back in his chair and frowns thoughtfully at the name, he remembers it faintly from Voldemort's reign. He had been a spy in the Ministry for the Dark side and he was a very wanted wizard. He was also the last remaining Death Eater yet to be apprehended.

Harry narrows his eyes at the photograph. It had been a secret mission of his to ensure that all the Death Eater's from Voldemort's time were either captured or dead. He had been putting off taking even a week off of work until that deed was complete, either by his own hand or someone else, he didn't care, so long as it was done.

Harry places the high-priority folder on his desk and begins to thoroughly read through the case, noting anything down that he thought may be useful.

"Harry?"

Harry jumps slightly in his chair and looks up. "Ron, what are you doing here?"

Ron raises his brows. "Er, it's lunch time mate."

Harry looks at the clock and sees that it is indeed time for their regular lunch date. Harry smiles and stretches, closing the folder in front of him. "Sorry, got carried away with my work today."

Ron smiles and moves aside as Harry throws his muggle coat on over his shoulders and falls into step beside him. They always had lunch together in London and had to leave behind their cloaks so as to fit in.

They walk to their usual café and take one of the few remaining tables still available in the lunch rush. They order from their server without even opening the menus.

"So," Ron says, relaxing back in his seat. "What's new?"

Harry almost laughs at the thought of sharing what was _really_ new with his life. But that did remind him of one piece of news that he would need to share sooner or later.

"Erm, actually there is something that I need to tell you," Harry opens hesitantly. "Oliver and I broke up last night."

Ron's jaw drops. "What? Are you serious?"

Harry nods, glancing down at the table and absently swirling his glass of water, allowing the ice cubes to chink against the glass sides.

"Why? What happened?" Ron presses.

Harry looks up at his friend's concerned face. "It was me actually, my heart just wasn't in it. I tried but… it just wasn't working, and it wasn't fair on Oliver."

Ron shakes his head in shock. "I can't believe it… I thought you were really good together."

"We were, as friends," Harry says with a shrug.

Ron sits back again, looking pensive. "You know, you always seemed fairly happy together but… _you_ never seemed that happy."

"I wasn't," Harry answers honestly.

"Dad's been worried about you, you know," Ron says awkwardly, looking away. "So have I, truth be told." The red-head looks up again with a small lop-sided smile. "But you seem happier than I've seen you in a long time."

Harry smiles, letting just a little of his secretive joy shine through. "I am."

Their meals arrive then and Harry picks up his roast beef roll, biting into it hungrily.

"So, what's new with you?" Harry asks after swallowing, hoping to divert any further questions about his love life. He really didn't like having to lie to Ron.

Ron shrugs, munching on his toasted ham and tomato sandwich. "Not much. Got a letter from Hermione though."

Harry looks up with interest, hoping that she hadn't spilled anything to Ron. "Yeah?"

"She's thinking of cutting her holiday short and coming home with Viktor early."

"Hmm…" Harry nods, hoping she wasn't coming home early because of him. He should probably write to her and tell her everything was alright.

"She's already asking what we want to wear for the wedding," Ron grimaces. "She's got three months, don't know why she's worried."

Harry smiles. "Apparently weddings need to be planned out in fine detail twelve months in advance of the actual date. Maybe we should humour her and go get something."

Ron chuckles. "Yeah alright, but let's not tell her and see how much she can panic."

Harry laughs. "You're a true friend Ronald Weasley."

Ron grins mischievously and takes another bite of his lunch. "Hey," he says after swallowing. "Have you heard the news?"

"What's that?"

"Malfoy is coming to work for the Ministry."

Harry nearly chokes. "What? When?"

Ron smirks. "Yeah, that was my reaction too. I think he starts in a couple of weeks, working in the Department of Mysteries. Don't know how he got _that_ job, what with his dodgy past and all. Not that you remember."

"Oh…yeah." Harry realises that he hadn't told Ron about his newly restored memory. He didn't know if he wanted to at this point, as it would most likely lead to some Draco bashing that he most certainly did not want to be a part of. "I guess they have good reason to hire him. They wouldn't have taken him on if they hadn't done a thorough check."

Ron snorts. "Yeah well, he wouldn't be the first Dark wizard to infiltrate the Ministry."

Harry rolls his eyes when Ron looks away. He was tired of people taking cheap shots of his lover. Nobody knew the real Draco Malfoy, and when they were back together, he was going to make sure that the whole world knew what a decent wizard he was.

They continue their lunch without further incident and return to work, parting with a friendly wave at Harry's office door.

Harry sits behind his desk and stares listlessly at the red folder. He hopes the next two weeks will fly by, waiting for Draco to return was torture, but he supposed he could endure it in comparison to what Draco had gone through for him lately.

He opens the red folder again and tries to lose himself in his work. He hopes that by the time they're ready to apprehend Augustus he will be declared fit to return to the field. He absently rubs a hand on his left thigh as he re-reads Rookwood's profile.

**. . . .**

Harry slowly meanders down Diagon Alley, his hands in his cloak pockets, as he surveys the cheery shop windows. It was nearly three weeks later and only a week from Christmas.

Harry pauses as he passes by the companion animal shop. It reminds him of the last pleasant conversation with Oliver, about what they were going to buy each other for Christmas

Harry looks in the window and spies the kittens playing happily in their pen. He chuckles as a little ginger one jumps on top of a sleeping white kitten then runs away. Harry absently removes a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose, feeling as though he's coming down with a cold.

He moves on with a little sigh.

His happiness was slowly starting to fade and be replaced with worry and doubt. He missed Draco terribly and didn't know what sort of reception the blond would give him when they finally met again. Draco had said that he didn't want to see him for a few months, but surely Harry's having regained his memory changed all that? Harry didn't want to just be friends anymore. He wanted more, and he knew Draco did too, or at least, he used to.

Harry moves on, trying to soak up the happy festive mood of Diagon Alley at Christmas time; the twinkling fairy lights and cheerful Sunday shoppers were bustling around every corner, arms laden with colourful packages.

Harry was vaguely wondering if he should buy Draco a gift when he spotted the handsome blond himself through the frosted window of a coffee shop.

Harry felt his heart stop the moment he spotted him. Draco was sitting alone at one of the small round tables, looking at some papers with a concentrated frown.

Harry thought he'd never seen anything so wonderful in all his life.

He quickly turns around and heads for the front entrance. He is immediately enveloped in the warm atmosphere of the shop, which is full of noisy happy patrons. He only has eyes for Draco though as he steps over the threshold and threads his way through the crowded tables towards him.

Draco looks up at his approach and his grey eyes widen in surprise. "Harry, what are you-"

"I've got my memory back!" Harry blurts without waiting. Some of the customers nearby pause in their conversation at the loud outburst.

Draco's lips part as he stares at him in shock. He blinks and seems to come back to himself. "Can I speak to you about this later?" he asks quietly

"Later?" Harry repeats in bewilderment, wondering why the blond wasn't leaping from the table and into his arms.

"I'm sort of in the middle of something."

It's then that Harry's eyes slide from Draco's face to the man hovering near the table holding two coffees. A cute man with blue eyes and dark hair. Alright, a drop-dead gorgeous man if he were completely honest.

"Oh…" Harry says, comprehension dawning. "Oh, sorry, I didn't…" Harry shakes his head and notices that there are a few people watching the exchange. His cheeks flush slightly as he backs up a step. "Sorry, I'll just…go."

Harry turns and bolts from the shop as fast as he can. His cheeks are still red with embarrassment as he bursts out onto the street. He takes a few deep gulps of the cold air and coughs, trying to calm his racing heart.

Of all the scenarios that he had envisioned of his reunion with Draco, this was not one of them. He should have thought before racing in there, he should have noticed the handsome stranger by his side, and most of all, he should have remembered that Draco hated having attention drawn to him in public (contrary to popular belief).

Harry coughs again and begins walking without a destination in mind, just needing to leave the immediate area.

"Harry?"

Harry turns to see Draco standing in the doorway of the shop, arms wrapped around himself against the cold.

"I start work at the Ministry tomorrow so I'll come see you then alright?" he says.

Harry smiles, feeling awkward. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Whenever."

Draco smiles apologetically and Harry feels a spark of hope at the warmth shining in those grey eyes. He watches as Draco turns and heads back into the small shop, returning to his table, and consequently, his guest.

Harry clamps down on the sudden flash of jealousy. He knew he had absolutely no right to be upset about Draco going on dates with other men.

Harry smiles to himself as he shoves his hands back into his pockets and wanders away. He had seen that familiar sparkle in Draco's eyes and was confident that tomorrow they would have a nice long talk – and hopefully, a nice long snog.

Harry Apparates back to his flat and stops in surprise to see Hermione waiting outside the door.

"Hermione!" he greets her with a jubilant smile.

The witch looks over and narrows her eyes.

Harry pauses uncertainly, thrown by the anger flashing dangerously in her brown eyes. "Uh..."

She strides up to him, hands on hips. "Harry James Potter, you are the most infuriating man I have ever met!"

Harry's eyes widen and he quickly ushers her into his flat and away from his nosy neighbours.

She whirls to face him as soon he closes the door behind them.

"What on earth has been going on here?" she demands, hands still firmly planted on her hips.

Harry swallows and bites his lip. He had forgotten to write her and let her know what was happening after his frantic letter. "Erm… quite a lot actually."

"I know!" Hermione snaps. "Last I hear the love of your life has returned form the dead, someone has Obliviated you so that you don't remember him and you are miserable!"

"Uh…well that was true at the time," Harry hedges then continues as Hermione stands glaring at him, "now I've got my memory back and… yeah."

Hermione rolls her eyes and removes a rolled up newspaper from under her arm. She flicks it open to the front page and holds it up. "And this perhaps has happened?"

Harry squints at the headline and accompanying photograph. "Boy-Who-Lived Breaks Quidditch Star's Heart," he reads. "Oh no…" He sighs and winces at the photograph of him enthusiastically snogging Oliver after the last quidditch match he attended.

"Is this true?" Hermione asks, lowering the paper.

"Yeah." Harry runs a hand through his hair with another heavy sigh. "We broke up a few weeks ago."

"Harry…" Hermione shakes her head. "Was this because of Malfoy?"

"Yes." Harry moves to sit in one of the kitchen chairs and stares at the floor. "Even without my memories I still wanted Draco, or at least was attracted to him enough that it was ruining my relationship with Oliver, so I ended it." Harry stops and looks up at her. "Turns out it was Oliver who Obliviated me."

Hermione sits in the chair next to him. "I wondered if it was him," she says. "I refused to do it that night and when I dropped you off with him… Well, I knew you weren't going to let it go. Sorry about knocking you out by the way, I was just worried that you would try to Apparate and splinch yourself."

Harry smiles wryly. "I thought you did it so that you wouldn't have to face my drunken wrath for not Obliviating me when I asked."

Hermione smiles in amusement. "So… where's Malfoy?" she asks.

Harry sighs and sits back in his chair. "He's on a date."

Hermione frowns. "What do you mean?"

"He thought Oliver and I moved in together and that I just wanted to be friends, so he went off to find someone else and… he did."

"But does he know you've got your memory back?"

"He does now," Harry says. "We're going to talk tomorrow at work."

"At the Ministry?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Draco got a job at the Ministry, he starts tomorrow."

"Anything else I should know about?" Hermione asks somewhat huffily.

Harry smirks. "Yeah, I got hit by a car and nearly died."

Hermione laughs and sits back in her chair.

Harry looks away, biting his lip and Hermione suddenly stops laughing. "You're serious aren't you?" she asks.

Harry flushes and nods.

"_Harry Potter_…" Hermione says warningly, eyes narrowing again.

"I didn't want to worry you on your holiday," Harry explains hastily. "I'm fine, well, nearly fine now."

"What happened?" Hermione asks in concern.

Harry sighs, that familiar shame creeping up on him. "I… I sort of got pissed and had a… altercation with Draco, and then tried to walk home."

Hermione swallows and doesn't know quite what to say. "You really worry me Harry," she finally sighs. "And you're alright now?"

Harry nods and glances down at his leg. "Yeah, my left leg is still a bit sore but I'll be fine."

"I can't believe Ron didn't mention it," Hermione says. "I specifically asked how you were doing, trying to weasel some information out of him, and he didn't say a word." She sighs and seems to digest everything for a moment before speaking. "So, how are things with Malfoy now? Is he…staying with this new guy? What are you going to do if you've given up Oliver for nothing?"

Harry removes his glasses and rubs a hand over his face tiredly. "I don't know what Draco is planning to do, I just hope he isn't so frustrated that he's going to reject me out of spite – though I wouldn't blame him."

"Oh Harry," Hermione says sadly, watching her friend with what could only be described as motherly affection.

"I'm alright," Harry says, looking up. "Even if Draco decides he doesn't want to be with me again, it just wasn't working with Oliver. We're great friends but there just wasn't any passion there."

Hermione pats his hand. "Don't worry, with this news article you'll have them banging down the door to be your next conquest."

Harry groans and buries his head in his arms. "Great."

Hermione giggles and gives his hand another squeeze before releasing it and sitting back.

Harry lifts his head with a small smile and sets his chin on folded arms. "I'm glad you're back." He frowns a little before continuing. "Truth is I don't want anyone but Draco. Today was the first time that I'd seen him since getting my memory back and it was so hard not to just grab him and hold on." Harry stops and shakes his head. "I still can't quite believe he's alive..."

Hermione smiles, Harry's eyes were so full of emotion and love. She just hoped that Malfoy didn't hurt him. "I'm sure he'll come round Harry, if he feels for you the same as what you obviously feel for him."

"He does," Harry says firmly. "I'm sure of it. He's been hounding me since he came back. He even stayed at the hospital with me for hours and hours while I was unconscious."

Hermione smiles in wonderment, shaking her head. "I can't believe that's the same Malfoy from Hogwarts. You make him out to be so different."

"He is," Harry smiles knowingly. "He really is."

Harry lifts his head and sits back in his chair. "Now, you're going to tell me all about your trip while I cook dinner."

Hermione grins and instantly launches into lengthy tales of her latest adventures with Viktor.

**. . . .**

Harry tries to force himself to concentrate on his work, staring hard at Augustus Rookwood's photo, but his thoughts are very far away. He fidgets in his seat for the hundredth time that morning, feeling as though he's had too much caffeine; his body hyped up and jumpy.

He is sitting in wait for Draco's visit. He knew the blond would be busy all morning, what with starting a new position, but Harry's patience was wearing thin. It was nearly lunch and he'd achieved absolutely nothing so far with regards to the Rookwood case. His mind had been going round and round in circles with the same thoughts all morning.

The dark wizard had been spotted just outside Hogsmeade and Kingsley was concerned that he was planning something that involved Hogwarts. Harry didn't think Rookwood could achieve much in the way of an attack when it was just him and possibly a few low priority others. A large scale attack would surely have come to light before now.

Harry frowns at the photo again. It just didn't make sense for the man to show his face in such a high profile location when he knew the Ministry was searching for him. He didn't believe it was carelessness on Rookwood's account, Harry was certain that the man _wanted_ to be seen. That in itself clearly suggested a trap of some sort…

"Harry?"

Harry blinks and looks up. His heart gives a little jump when he sees Draco standing in the doorway. "Dray," he automatically greets with a smile.

Draco enters and shuts the door behind him before settling in the seat opposite Harry's desk. "It's been a long time since I've heard you call me that," he opens.

Harry flushes slightly as he hadn't even realised what he'd said. "Sorry."

Draco's mouth quirks up in amusement. "It's okay Harry. I've missed it."

Harry feels his pulse quicken. "I've missed you," he says quietly.

Draco seems to revel in Harry's words a moment before replying. "You don't know how much I've wanted to hear that these past few weeks," he says haltingly.

"And now?" Harry asks, trying and failing to keep the hopefulness out of his voice.

"Now?" Draco repeats with a frown.

Harry bites his lip and looks away. "Yeah, you know, now that you're seeing other people…"

"Other…?" Draco's frown turns into a smile. "You mean Darren? The man in Diagon Alley with me?"

Harry nods.

Draco swallows a laugh. "Harry, I'm not 'dating' Darren, he's my architect."

Harry looks up. "Oh…" he says, smiling sheepishly. "I just assumed… He's very good-looking."

"That he is," Draco agrees with a nod. "And he just happens to be as straight as a flagpole."

Harry laughs as Draco smiles at him in amusement. "Were you jealous Mr Potter?" the blond asks with a delicately arched brow.

"Insanely so," Harry affirms. "Let's face it, I would never be able to compete with him."

Draco surveys him with a tilted head. "You never did think you were very attractive Harry, I'd hoped you would have grown out of that."

Harry shrugs and shuffles some of the papers on his desk in embarrassment, causing Draco to smirk.

"Is it true about you and Oliver Wood?" Draco suddenly asks, sobering.

Harry meets his gaze. "Yes," he answers firmly.

Draco releases a heavy breath in relief. "Are you… alright?" he asks as an afterthought.

Harry sighs, his gaze falling to the red file folder on his desk. "Yeah, I feel really bad about how it ended but…" His emerald eyes lock with Draco's. "It just wasn't working, even without my memories I was falling for you all over again. Plus he was the one to Obliviate me-"

"What?" Draco sits up furiously.

"I've already told him off for it, and I think breaking up with him is punishment enough," Harry quickly placates.

Draco's silver eyes narrow dangerously. "Not punishment enough," he growls.

"Besides, I _did_ ask him to do it," Harry adds, "when I still thought you were dead."

Draco's expression suddenly loses all of its outrage. "I can't imagine what you went through…" he says. "I know I would go out of my mind if I thought you had been killed."

"I did," Harry says at last. "There were times that I didn't think I would ever make it through."

Draco forcefully blinks back tears at Harry's broken voice. "I guess I can understand why you felt the need to Obliviate me from your memory."

Harry nods, wanting to embrace his lover but feeling self-conscious. "I just want us to be together again," he admits softly.

"So do I," Draco responds fervently, leaning forward. "In about a week."

"Huh?" Harry replies intelligently, breaking the intense atmosphere between them.

Draco takes a deep breath. "I just need some time to sort through some things – it has nothing to do with doubting us or anything like that," he hurries to add at Harry's worried expression. "Settling all the estate matters and reinstating myself as the living Malfoy heir has been a lot more trouble than I thought it would be. Plus reconstructing the manor and starting this new job… I just want to be able to focus all of my attention on us, and on you."

"Okay," Harry says slowly. "That sounds… reasonable. I am sorry about all the shit I've put you through lately Draco…"

Draco lifts a hand to silence him. "It's fine, it wasn't your fault. Let's just move on, shall we?" Draco smiles a little. "I still love you, you know," he adds reassuringly.

Harry can't help but grin at that announcement. "Good," he says. "Do I at least get a goodbye kiss before you leave?"

"Merlin yes," Draco breathes out eagerly.

Harry stands just as the door to his office swings open and Ron freezes in surprise.

"Ron," Harry says ineffectually.

"Er… we still on for lunch Harry?" Ron says, though he's staring at Draco. "What are you doing here Malfoy?" he adds, recovering from his momentary shock.

Draco stands, eyes narrowing. "Official Department of Mysteries business Weasley," he sneers. "Doesn't concern you."

Ron rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. "So glad you're still alive," he says sarcastically.

"Draco!" Harry cuts in as the Slytherin opens his mouth to retort.

"_Malfoy_," Ron reminds him.

"Malfoy! Argh… no, Draco," Harry shakes his head, flustered.

"Potter," Draco smirks.

Harry claps a hand over his eyes with a groan. "Ron – yes we're still on for lunch. Draco – would you like to join us?"

"What?" Ron screeches.

"Ron…" Harry says warningly, removing his hand from his eyes to glare at him.

Ron purses his lips and remains silent.

"As much as I would love to continue this enlightening exchange of verbal barbs, I do have work to do," Draco drawls, moving to the door.

Ron shifts to watch the blond leave and Harry meets Draco's eyes above his turned head. "I love you too," he mouths at him.

Draco nods and Harry detects the glimmer of happiness in his eyes before he vanishes from the doorway.

Ron turns back around and watches as Harry collects his coat. "Was Malfoy really here on work related issues or was he just being an arse?"

Harry smiles heavily and slips his arms into the sleeves of his black woollen jacket. "Ron… we need to talk," he says, indicating for his friend to follow him out the door.

Ron falls into step beside Harry, glancing side-ways at him. "Why does that sound bad?'

"It's not, or maybe it is depending on how you look at it," Harry replies vaguely.

"Does this have to do with Malfoy?" Ron asks nervously.

"Yes."

"Oh god, you don't want us to be friends with that git do you?"

"Erm…I want _you_ to be friends with him, yes," Harry replies.

The pair pause as they disappear into the floo network and arrive back out at street level.

"Why me?" Ron asks, sounding as though it's the end of the world. "I'm telling you mate, when you get your memory back you'll be absolutely horrified with this request."

Harry stops on the footpath and turns to face him. "I've _got_ my memory back Ron. Oliver Obliviated me and he released the spell," he explains, leaving out the part about his having recovered a few weeks ago.

"Oliver…" Ron trails off in surprise. "Why would he do that? I thought he was a good bloke."

"He is, mostly." Harry sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets. "This isn't exactly the most ideal spot for this conversation but… I asked Oliver to Obliviate Draco from my memory because I'm in love him. Have been for years."

Ron gapes, tries to speak, then gapes soundlessly some more.

Harry takes a deep breath and pushes on. "I thought he was dead and I couldn't move on, I wanted a fresh start with Oliver and so I asked him to alter my memory."

"You're in love…with Malfoy?" Ron unglues his throat to ask disbelievingly.

"Yes."

"But… if you couldn't remember Malfoy, why would you break up with Oliver?"

"It just wasn't working with Oliver, though I didn't want to admit it, and as soon as I met Draco – with or without my memory intact – I couldn't deny the attraction. I was falling for him all over again."

"But…_why_?" Ron asks in disgust. "How could you fall in love with _Malfoy_? He may be good looking," Ron admits grudgingly, "but what about his wanker personality?"

"He's not like you think Ron," Harry tries to explain. "He's different when he's not so guarded. He's intelligent and caring-"

Ron shakes his head. "But when did all this happen? Wait, does Malfoy-" Ron pauses to swallow in distaste, "love you?"

"Yes," Harry replies. "We got together during sixth year."

"_Sixth_ year?" Ron repeats faintly. "I think I need to sit down…"

Harry finally smiles and takes his friend by the elbow. "Come on, lunch is on me today."

"Yeah…alright…" Ron answers dazedly.

Harry chuckles and steers Ron down the street towards their usual café.


	10. Tearing Love Apart

_**Chapter Ten: Tearing Love Apart**_

Draco enters Mr Wicken's office and strides over to greet his solicitor with a formal handshake before seating himself on the other side of the massive mahogany desk.

"Mr Malfoy," Mr Wicken's lips curl into an oily smile. "What can I do for you today?" he asks as he lowers himself into his wing-backed chair and steeples his fingers together.

Draco leisurely crosses one ankle over his knee and leans back. "Firstly, I require your assurance that this conversation will remain private."

"Of course," Mr Wicken consents with a small bow of the head.

Draco lifts the manila folder from his lap and tosses it onto the solicitor's desk. "I'd like to have some of these documents adjusted."

Mr Wicken opens the folder and glances down at the thick sheaf of papers inside. He looks back up at Draco with a small frown. "These are the Malfoy title deeds."

Draco nods solemnly. "Yes, as well as my will. I would like to have the ownership adjusted to add Harry James Potter as part ownership, as well as naming him sole beneficiary in the case of my death."

"Part ownership?" Mr Wicken enquires with a raised brow. "How much?"

"Fifty percent."

Mr Wicken's right brow rises to meet the other near his hairline. "Very well sir…"

"One hundred percent of all assets upon my death," Draco continues evenly.

Mr Wicken swallows and allows another small bow of the head. "As you wish."

Draco nods in approval as Mr Wicken begins to sort through the documents, pulling out any that are to be edited.

"It will take some time for these to be completed," Mr Wicken says without looking up. "About six or seven days."

"I assumed as much," Draco replies easily. "You will be compensated for your troubles."

"Thank you sir," Mr Wicken glances up with another eager smile. He then lifts a small box from the floor at his feet and places it on the desk closest to Draco. "Here is the remainder of the documents for you to read through and approve."

Draco stands with a heavy sigh and lifts the box, placing it under one arm, already dreading the hours of work that would be added to his evening's full schedule. He takes his cloak from off of the chair and slings it over his arm in preparation to leave. "And Mr Wicken, I will inform Mr Potter of these changes myself when the documents are ready for his signature. There will be no need for someone from your office to contact him."

"Very well." Mr Wicken stands and extends one hand. "I will inform you when the changes are complete."

Draco nods and clasps his hand. "Thankyou. Good day sir."

Mr Wicken watches the blond exit his office before shaking his head disapprovingly. Lucius Malfoy would be spinning in his grave if he knew his entire estate was in the hands of Harry Potter.

**. . . .**

Harry winces as another coughing fit strikes him whilst sitting at his desk. He definitely had the flu and was now re-thinking his decision to come into work this morning. He knew seeing Draco was the only reason he was tempted into making the trip.

He opens one of his drawers and pops another cough drop into his mouth, grimacing at the lemony taste. He hated lemon flavoured things, and he briefly wondered if it stemmed from years of Dumbledore's persistence in forcing lemon lollies down his throat any time he stepped foot into his office.

He shuts the drawer and picks up his quill again to finish writing the report he was currently working on, pausing every few minutes to cough or rub at his tired eyes.

He wasn't surprised that he was sick, he hadn't been taking very good care of himself lately; unable to sleep through the night, stressed, not remembering to eat enough… Hopefully everything would return to normal now that he had Draco back in his life – well, almost.

Harry smiles to himself at the thought then promptly begins to cough for the next twenty seconds.

"That's it," he grumbles aloud to himself, standing and pushing his report away. "I'm going home."

Harry grabs his cloak and scarf and quickly dresses for the trip home. He leaves his office and bundles off towards the Atrium.

He glances around and stops when he suddenly catches Draco emerging from one of the fireplaces. He smiles in greeting when the blond's eyes meet his and he makes his way over.

"Hi," Harry manages to say before coughing harshly into a gloved hand.

"Charming," Draco replies dryly.

"I'm sick." Harry glares at him. "I've finally decided to go home."

"You want some company?" Draco asks. "I was hoping to have lunch together today but… I'll settle for walking you home instead?"

Harry smiles and nods, trying to swallow down the threatening cough tickling at his throat. "Yeah, that would be…nice," he replies.

The two turn and head back towards the fireplace that Draco has just exited from, before Harry can step into it though he hears his name being called from across the large room.

He turns to see Seamus dashing across the shining marble floors before skidding to a stop in front of them out of breath.

"Harry…" he pants. "Glad I caught you. They've spotted Rookwood outside Hogsmeade, we're on our way over now. Thought you might want to come."

Harry clenches his jaw. "Yes I do. Lead the way."

"Harry…" Draco speaks up, pulling him aside and speaking quietly. "You sure you're up for that right now?"

Harry smiles reassuringly, his heart warming at the concern in Draco's eyes. "I'll be fine. I feel fine actually, it's just a cough. I'll see you later okay?"

Draco releases his elbow with a nod and straightens.

Harry has the urge to kiss Draco on the cheek before leaving but just manages to restrain himself. He joins Seamus and the Irish boy glances at him curiously as they walk back towards the Auror division. He didn't know what Seamus was thinking, he'd specifically asked Ron not to say anything to anyone about his relationship with Draco until there actually _was_ a relationship to speak of.

Luckily there wasn't time for Seamus to question him before they joined the group of Aurors along with Kingsley in the meeting room.

Harry tries to hide in the background as they discuss the situation and the tactics to be employed, he did not want anyone to forbid him from coming as he wasn't technically allowed back in the field just yet.

Harry listens intently as Kingsley mentions that Rookwood is not alone and for everyone to keep their wits about them today. He did not think that both sides would come out of this unscathed. Harry nods as the Minister adds a reminder of how important it is for them to capture Rookwood once and for all.

"Good luck," he booms gravely, officially breaking up the meeting.

Harry stays with Seamus as they head towards the Apparation area; the only room in the Ministry building with Apparation access, for Aurors alone. Harry removes his gloves and scarf as he goes, tossing them in through his open office doorway as he passes by. He withdraws his wand and carefully tucks it up the sleeve of his cloak into the wand pouch that has been sewn into all of the official Aurors' robes.

They enter the large barren room and stand together in the centre of the white tiled floor. Once all the Aurors have gathered they all prepare to Disapparate.

Seamus grins at him in excitement before they disappear with a pop.

**. . . .**

Harry ducks behind the side of the run-down building and leans against the dilapidated weather boards, panting harshly. He covers his mouth as he coughs, trying to stifle the sound at the same time as listening intently to the sounds reverberating all around him.

Everything was quiet as the group of Aurors had entered Hogsmeade, a vast majority of the residents swiftly leaving the area as soon as they caught sight of the intimidating group of witches and wizards.

They had silently scouted the entire village before moving outward towards Hogwarts. There were a few scattered abandoned homes along the path, one of which they quickly discovered held the group of dark wizards they were looking for.

The attack had come out of nowhere, but luckily the trained Aurors were quick to respond, dodging the first slew of curses and finding cover in the nearby trees and around the surrounding shacks.

Harry swallows and pushes himself back against the wall, listening to the shouts going on around the corner. He quickly turns and races to the far end of the wall at the back of the house, and cautiously peers around the corner. He can see a lone wizard in black robes crouched down beside the building next door, wand out and at the ready.

Harry squints, trying to see if it's Rookwood or not, but it's useless at this distance.

Harry takes a deep breath and aims his wand. "Stupefy!"

A jet of red bursts forth from his wand and hits the intended target. The wizard slumps over onto the ground.

Harry leaps out from his hiding spot and sprints across the snow covered ground to his victim. He kneels in the snow beside the fallen man and lifts his cloak away to check his identity. It's not Rookwood.

Harry swears under his breath and takes the wizard's wand before standing and looking around.

He suddenly hears crunching footsteps and spins around in the same moment as dropping to his knees and pointing his wand. The crunching sounds stop just around the corner of the building.

Harry tenses, wand still pointed, as he waits for his enemy to make the first move.

"Harry?"

Harry relaxes as Seamus' questioning voice floats around the corner. "Yeah I'm here."

Harry keeps his wand pointed until Seamus steps out into view. He nods at his partner and stands, lowering his wand.

"Who've you got there?' Seamus asks, striding over.

"Dunno." Harry glances down at the motionless body and shrugs. "It's not Rookwood."

"Damn," Seamus says in disappointment, then looks up, glancing around them.

"Want to check the house?" Harry asks, jerking his head at the shack beside them.

"Sure." Seamus nods and then lifts his wand as the two creep over to the back door; half off its hinges and swaying in the breeze.

Harry scans the area around them as Seamus steps inside. He can still hear the battle raging near the road and he hopes their side is fairing well as he steps into the shack himself.

The old place is musty and damp, smelling as though it's rotting from the inside. Harry wrinkles his nose and follows closely behind Seamus.

The sound of shattering glass explodes behind them and the two Aurors instantly duck and protectively through their hands up over their heads.

The glass shards settle onto the wooden floorboards before Harry opens his eyes and looks behind him. The window just to their right has been broken and the wind is now whipping inwards, blowing the ragged curtain in a ghostly dance.

Harry scurries over to the window and sits just beneath it. Seamus follows his lead and sits against the wall on the opposite side of the open door.

They glance at each other and nod before simultaneously aiming their wands blindly out the open window and door and firing off a few spells in quick succession.

Harry then jumps to his feet and looks out the window. He can see two dark robed figures behind a couple of old fig trees in the distance. He quickly fires off another few spells towards them and watches to see if he hits either of the targets.

The two wizards duck back behind the trees, Harry's spells harmlessly zooming past into the forest.

"Behind the trees," Harry whispers to Seamus as he ducks back down.

Seamus nods and grips his wand. "Shall we?" he asks, eyes glinting slightly.

Harry flashes a grim smile as he nods in agreement.

"Now!" Seamus calls and leaps to his feet.

Harry mirrors his partner and jumps into action; springing from his position on the dusty floorboards and flinging himself through the open doorway, firing off a spell as soon as he's standing. "Stupefy!"

Harry and Seamus duck and dodge together, trying to trace a strange unpredictable zigzag pattern across the snow-covered property towards the trees.

Harry ducks and rolls across the ground before sitting up on his knees and aiming at the large tree. "Incendio!"

The fig tree bursts into flames and their targets jump away from the trunk in surprise. They're not surprised for long though and quickly turn back towards the two Aurors and fire.

Harry flattens to the ground to avoid the red jet of light. He lifts his head and raises his wand. "Stupefy!"

He hits his target right in the chest and the wizard falls to the ground. Harry allows a small grin of triumph before turning his attention towards the other target.

Harry spies Seamus gritting his teeth and holding one hand to his arm, blood flowing over his fingers, but his wand is still raised and firing.

Harry leaps to his feet and narrows his eyes at the remaining dark wizard. "Stupefy!"

The dark-robed wizard goes down hard after taking the direct hit.

Harry breathes out and crouches beside Seamus. "You alright mate?"

Seamus nods and removes a white handkerchief from his cloak pocket. "Can you tie this on?"

Harry reaches out for the cloth but is distracted by sudden movement beyond his fallen comrade.

"Get down!" Harry yells and shoves Seamus to the snow as a spell whizzes past over their heads.

Seamus gasps in shock then looks over. "Go!" he directs Harry. "I'll catch up."

Harry nods and, with wand in hand, jumps up and dashes around Seamus after the other man.

The black robed wizard turns and heads for the nearest ramshackle building.

Harry quickly casts "stupefy!" as he runs.

The wizard crouches and allows the spell to pass before turning and firing back. Harry's eyes widen as he instantly identifies Rookwood from his photo.

Harry dodges to the right to escape the jet of light, and as he does so, his weakened left leg finally gives out on him and he stumbles to the snow-packed ground, losing his hold on his wand as he puts out his hands to lessen the impact.

Harry gasps as he hits the earth and tries to get back up, but his leg is too weak, the muscles useless and shaking violently.

Harry rolls over onto his stomach and looks up. Rookwood is approaching with a malevolent smile on his craggy face. Harry casts around desperately for his wand, heart pounding.

Rookwood lifts his wand. "Avad-"

"Expelliarmus!"

Rookwood's wand flies out of his hand and is deftly caught by Seamus, who is standing only a few meters away.

"Stupefy!" Seamus stuns the man, hate flashing in his eyes, before turning his attention to his partner. "Harry, are you alright? Did he get you?"

Harry exhales shakily and flops onto his back, closing his eyes. "I'm fine…" he says breathlessly. "Thanks."

Seamus crouches over him worriedly. "Are you sure? I saw you go down…"

Harry swallows before opening his eyes. He tentatively sits up and reaches for his wand, brushing the snow from the wooden surface.

"Do you need a hand?" Seamus asks.

Harry nods, grabbing Seamus' left hand as he extends it down to him. He hauls Harry unsteadily to his feet and quickly puts an arm around him in support when it looks as though he's about to topple again.

"Are you sure he didn't get you with something?"

Harry bites his lip and rests just the toe of his left boot on the ground, keeping all his weight on his right leg. "Yeah," he replies weakly. "It's just my stupid injury."

"Still?" Seamus' brows rise in surprise.

Harry nods and winces as a spark of pain shoots up his leg.

"Come on, I'll side-Apparate you back before you get yourself killed."

Harry nods and Seamus shoots an explosion of green sparks into the air over Rookwood's body before turning back to Harry and instantly sweeping him away back to the Ministry.

As soon as the two Aurors appear a medi-witch is there on hand to receive them.

"What happened?" the strawberry blond witch asks as she quickly comes over, eyes flicking over the length of Harry's body.

"Old injury," Harry tries to smile lightly but ends up grimacing in pain.

"Hmm…" the nurse gazes at him appraisingly. "I think you'd better come with me to St Mungos."

"No, I'll be fine," Harry instantly assures her.

"Harry, mate, you almost died," Seamus says, still holding onto him firmly. "I think you should go."

Harry sighs. "Fine."

The med-witch slips into place on Harry's other side and spells a feather-light charm over him before taking his weight from off of Seamus.

Seamus takes a step back and smiles reassuringly. "See ya later Potter."

"Don't tell Kingsley!" Harry calls before he's Apparated away.

Seamus rolls his eyes, glad that the medi-wtich hadn't seen the wound on his arm. He makes sure the cloth is tightly secured on his forearm before Disapparating back to the battle.

**. . . .**

"Just hold still Mr Potter and I'll run a quick scan."

Harry lies back on the sterile white hospital bed with a sigh. The same strawberry blond medi-witch (whose name he has found out is Anita), is now passing the glowing tip of her wand overtop of his left leg.

She performs a complicated pattern of swishes and flicks while glowing numerical images appear above different sections of his leg.

Harry glances at her face and bites his lip at the frown there. "What is it?"

"Hush," she orders him quietly, concentrating on the images.

Harry tries to see whatever it is that she's seeing and quickly gives up. It was as though he was staring at another language.

She finally clears the air with a quick wave of her hand and looks to Harry. "Your leg seems to be mending at an abnormally slow rate, and… there's something else going on that I can't quite diagnose. Besides the car accident, have you ever injured this leg?"

"No." Harry shakes his head, rising up on his elbows to look at her.

Her frown only deepens. "I think I'm going to ask one of the Healers to take a look."

Harry's pulse increases as she exits the room and leaves him alone with his thoughts. What was wrong with his leg? Was it permanent? Would they have to amputate?

Harry's eyes widen. Would Draco still want him with only one leg?

Harry flops back onto the bed with a humourless laugh. What a stupid thing to contemplate at a time like this.

The door opens only a few minutes later and Anita walks back in, closely followed by a middle-aged Healer in white robes. "Good morning Mr Potter," he greets with a formal nod before moving straight to his left leg and raising his wand. "I'm Healer Pascal," he introduces himself absently as he begins to work.

Harry sits up on his elbows again to watch. The Healer performs his own series of complicated wand waving patterns over his leg and watches the same foreign images appear.

The Healer frowns along with the medi-witch and Harry wants to pull his hair out in frustration at their silence. The Healer then clears the air and touches his wand to Harry's leg, whispering a few words under his breath. A yellow glow suddenly emanates from his leg.

Harry's eyes flick to Anita as her breath catches in her throat.

"What?" he finally demands impatiently. "What is it? Do you have to amputate?"

The Healer finally turns towards him. "There is some sort of poison in your system," he replies, never one to mince words.

"Poison?" Harry repeats in confusion. "What? How?"

"I was hoping you would be able to answer that," Healer Pascal answers. "I suppose in your line of work you would have a fair few enemies."

Harry gapes soundlessly for a few moments before regaining his breath. "So… I ate or drank something with poison in it?" he asks, still not quite believing the words coming out of his mouth. It was as though his body was answering of its own accord.

"It seems to originate in this leg, so perhaps you were injected or stabbed-"

Harry sits up straighter at the Healer's words. "The dagger," he exclaims softly. "I was stabbed in my thigh the same day as the car accident…"

"That would explain the slow rate of healing," the Healer says slowly. "Your body would have been pumped full of healing potions and spells which would have slowed the rate of the spreading poison."

Harry swallows and forces himself to ask. "How…bad is it?"

The Healer indicates to Anita that he wishes for some blood samples to be taken before turning back to his patient.

"We won't know how to eradicate the poison until we find out which poison has been used. The fact that you're still here is a good sign Mr Potter."

Harry doesn't know quite how to take that as he silently watches Anita bustle about; taking blood from a vein on the inside of his arm.

"How have you been feeling lately?" Healer Pascal asks. "Any pain anywhere else in your body? Lungs? Heart arrhythmia? Kidney pain?"

"No," Harry replies distractedly, shaking his head, face pale.

"Good," the Healer murmurs, noting something down on his clipboard. He looks back up with a quick smile as he pockets his wand. "The poisons to worry about are the ones that spread to your vital organs. You may feel pain in other parts of your body, or you may feel as though you have the flu…" He trails off as Anita interrupts to ask the Healer a question.

Harry freezes, the Healer's words echoing in his head.

"We'll test these samples and let you know within forty-eight hours," the Healer continues clinically, turning back to Harry, unaware of the sudden fear written across his face. "It appears to be some sort of cytotoxic poison, whichtargets specific sites or muscle groups, which is why you are experiencing lack of muscle control."

"I have the flu," Harry whispers, almost to himself. He looks up at the other two. "I have the flu," he repeats louder, trying not to sound hysterical.

Healer Pascal looks at him a moment then quietly asks Anita to take the blood to the lab. He perches on the edge of the bed next to Harry and rests his clipboard on his knees.

"How long have you been sick?" he inquires.

Harry tries to think but his brain is swirling in a panicked fog and he can't focus properly. "Awhile now, maybe a week or two?"

The Healer nods. "Symptoms?"

"Mostly coughing and… and a fever," Harry responds, watching him.

Again the Healer nods.

"That's bad, isn't it?'

He pats his leg and Harry hates him for it, seeing it as an infuriatingly patronizing gesture.

"It's not good, no," he replies honestly, meeting Harry's emerald gaze. "But we'll find out what it is and go from there, alright? We would prefer for you to stay here at St Mungos for the next couple of days until the results are in, but if you wish to go home to collect some clothes and things then return in the morning, you're welcome to."

Harry swallows, trying to collect himself, trying to be the brave Gryffindor. "Yes, I- I'd like that."

"We can give you a potion to take home with you to take tonight and then I expect you back here first thing tomorrow morning. There's really no need to keep you in tonight."

Harry nods mutely.

"Do you need me to call someone for you?" Healer Pascal asks, standing and hugging his clipboard to his chest.

"No, I'll be alright," Harry declines politely. He takes a deep breath then swings his legs over the side of the bed. He cautiously touches his feet to the floor and places his weight on both legs. He stands unsteadily, but at least he is standing.

The Healer removes a vial of deep purple liquid from within the glass cabinet in the examination room and places it into a bag. He hands the bag to Harry before opening the door for him and standing aside. "Take this tonight with dinner and we'll see you tomorrow morning."

Harry nods and grasps the handle of the cloth bag tightly in one hand, the Healer's words washing over him as though from very far away. Healer Pascal then gives him directions to the Apparation room before disappearing down the corridor.

Harry slowly walks through the halls, staring hard at the linoleum floor passing beneath his feet. He enters the Apparation room and takes a steadying breath before Apparating directly home to his flat.

Harry wearily shuts the door behind him and leans against it with closed eyes. This innocent day had suddenly turned into such a nightmare. He almost wished that Rookwood _had_ killed him earlier, and then he would have been spared this horrible waiting period. Waiting to hear that he was going to die.

Harry opens his eyes and blinks. He wasn't crying, there would be no use when he didn't even know if there was something to cry about. He tries to feel hopeful, if he's had the poison in him this long, surely it meant that he could still be healed…

Harry forces himself away from the door and heads for the bedroom. He collapses onto his bed and falls asleep still wearing his filthy Auror robes and snow-encrusted boots.

**. . . .**

Harry awakens with a start and opens his eyes. His bedroom is bathed in the late afternoon light pouring in through his window. He blinks a few times and is surprised to feel tears on his lashes and cheeks.

He slowly sits up and rubs a hand over his face, the events of the day returning like the brutal twist of a knife to his chest.

He removes his hand and raises his head as he suddenly becomes aware of the knocking at his front door. He briefly wonders if they've been knocking for awhile as he stands and gingerly puts weight onto his left leg before walking out of the bedroom and up the hall. He pauses before the door, trying to decide whether to answer it or not. He wasn't in the mood for visitors. He was in the mood for lounging in bed and wallowing in his depression.

Harry suddenly coughs loudly and rolls his eyes as the knocking abruptly stops. "Can't pretend I'm not here now," he grumbles to himself.

He opens the door to see Hermione standing in the hallway, wringing her hands.

"Harry!" she instantly sobs and throws herself into his arms, which automatically come up to envelop her in return.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks, patting her hair awkwardly.

"What's wrong?" she repeats hysterically. "What's _wrong_? Why didn't you tell me you were dying?"

Harry quickly pulls her into his flat and shuts the door. "Where did you hear that?"

Hermione sniffles and dabs at her nose with a tissue unearthed from within her woolly brown cardigan. "Lavender. She works at St Mungos."

"Shit," Harry swears under his breath. "Who else knows?"

"No one." Hermione shakes her head, splattering more tears down her cheeks. "She'd lose her job if someone found out she was leaking confidential information. She only mentioned it to me because I'm your friend and she thought I already knew."

Harry sighs, relieved that it wasn't about to be splashed across the front page of the Daily Prophet. There was nothing he hated more than pity.

"I only just found out a few hours ago," he says. "And I'm not dying. Not yet anyway," he mumbles.

Hermione looks up with watery brown eyes. "Oh Harry… Have you told Ron? Have you told Draco?"

Harry looks up sharply. "I am **not** telling Draco. There's nothing to tell, he'll just worry, plus…"

"What?"

Harry sighs and turns to walk into the kitchen, Hermione following close behind, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. He collapses into the nearest chair and folds his hands into his lap.

"I don't know if he wants to be with me anymore…"

"What?" Hermione frowns, standing before him and looking down into his miserable face.

"He said he's really busy with business and his new job and… well, he said he wanted a week before we go any further."

"What's wrong with that?" Hermione asks, sniffing a little. "It's only a week."

"Yeah, but what if he really wants this week to think about things? What can he accomplish in one week? Why doesn't he want to be with me _now_?"

Hermione chews her bottom lip worryingly. "Where is this insecurity coming from?"

Harry nervously rakes one hand through his hair. Now that the thought had taken root he couldn't ignore it. "I just… I don't want him to feel as though he has to be with me because… of this."

He stands and begins to pace.

"And maybe I shouldn't be with him now at all. What would be the point? Why start something again when it won't last?"

"Harry." Hermione halts his pacing by placing both hands firmly on his shoulders. "Stop it. Draco loves you and he deserves to know what's going on." She pulls back to look at him. "If the situation were reversed you would want to know, right?"

Harry pulls away and crosses his arms over his chest, staring down at the floor.

Hermione remains silent, watching the play of emotions cross his face in rapid succession.

He finally sighs and lifts sad eyes to Hermione's face. "It's not that I don't want to tell him," he explains haltingly. "I just… I don't want to say anything until I know. I kinda just want to deal with this on my own first, you know?"

Hermione nods, trying to hold back another onslaught of fresh tears. "How long til you know something?" she manages to ask, a slight tremor to her voice.

"Couple of days," he shrugs carelessly, trying to shove away the overwhelming feeling of guilt. He knew Draco should've been the first person he spoke to after leaving the hospital, but that niggling feeling of doubt had stopped him. They weren't technically together, and the thought that maybe Draco had an ulterior reason for this delayed start to their relationship was troubling him.

He had agreed at first because he was just so elated at the thought of finally being with him again that he didn't stop to question it.

Draco had said that he still loved him though, his subconscious reminds him, which only serves to strengthen the pressing weight of guilt.

He shakes his head and focuses on Hermione once more.

"I have to return to St Mungos in the morning. I should be able to avoid everyone for the forty-eight hours it takes for them to pinpoint the poison," he says matter-of-factly, trying to evade the hysteria threatening to close in on him.

Hermione swallows, eyes shining again with tears. "What can I do?" she asks.

Harry tries to smile reassuringly. "Nothing, it'll be fine. I haven't dropped dead yet."

Hermione clamps her teeth down on her bottom lip to keep from sobbing.

"Just please don't tell Ron," he adds. "Let me do this my own way."

"Of course Harry," she promises earnestly. "Do you want me to stay?"

Harry smiles and shakes his head. "Thanks but I'll be fine, honestly. I'll let you know the moment I find out."

Hermione absently swipes at her eyes and forces a smile. "Okay, I'm going to hold you to that Harry Potter."

Harry follows her to the door and Hermione hugs him tightly.

"Are you sure you don't need me to stay?" she asks.

Harry smiles and shakes his head, not quite trusting his voice.

Hermione nods with a watery smile before walking out the door and Apparating away.

Harry shuts the door and quickly strides to the lounge room to keep from collapsing into a wretched heap by the door. He flicks on the TV and sits down, suddenly feeling very alone.

The next forty-eight hours were going to be excruciating...


	11. Don't Come Back for Me

_**Chapter Eleven: **__**Don't Come Back For Me**_

The glowing light of the television flickers across Harry's face as he sleeps slouched over on the couch, a frown creasing his forehead as he twitches and murmurs incoherently in his sleep. The muted grey light of a winter's morning stretches across the room as the sun slowly rises in the sky behind a thin blanketing of clouds.

Harry's stirring increases as his dreams slip away and the garbled sounds of the television invade his senses, the sunlight sweeping across closed lids causing him to squint against the rude awakening.

His eyes slowly blink open, black pupils contracting in the sudden light as brilliant green irises sparkle in the sun.

Harry lies still, staring unseeing at the television across from him. His eyes are gritty from falling asleep at three in the morning, his mouth tastes foul, and his stomach rumbles as he dully realises that he did not have dinner the night before. There's a slight pain in his gut which he attributes to taking his potion on an empty stomach, though he can't seem to find it in himself to care.

Harry reaches for the remote on the floor and quickly clicks off the irritating buzz of the television. Silence immediately envelops the room.

Harry slowly sits up and folds his hands in his lap, staring down at his trembling fingers as he vainly tries to dig up some of the hope he felt yesterday, some of that Gryffindor bravery that he has relied on time and time again.

It isn't working. Only loneliness and despair seem to be prevailing today.

Harry stands. Unable to put it off any longer he makes his way to his bedroom to pack.

He grabs his blue backpack from the closet floor and opens it on his bed. He tosses in clean clothes and a pair of pyjamas, followed by his toothbrush, comb and deodorant. His gaze catches on the empty frame from Draco on his bedside table and he tenderly places it in amongst his other possessions as well.

Harry pauses before opening the drawer of his bedside table. He hesitantly removes the pewter ring box and flicks open the lid. The small ring gleams merrily up at him from within its silken nest.

With a weary sigh Harry quickly closes it again with a loud snap and drops it back into the drawer before slamming it shut.

Guilt prods at his conscience as he zips up his bag and slings it over his shoulder. It's so tempting to simply drop everything and run to Draco, to spill all his insecurities and fears onto him and take comfort in his arms, but Harry refuses to do that. If this all comes to nothing then the blond need never know, and if he _**is**_ dying…

Harry shakes his head. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Harry swiftly exits his bedroom and walks up the hall, swiping at a tear that has somehow managed to squeeze past his defences. Strangely it isn't his mortality that has him upset but thoughts of his absent lover.

Harry releases a shaky breath and opens the door.

"Harry?"

Harry startles and takes a step back. "Oliver," he says in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you'd be at work, I just came to get the rest of my-" He stops and takes in Harry's red-rimmed eyes and pale complexion. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Harry swallows and looks away from Oliver's concerned gaze. He knows if he utters one word of the truth it will open the floodgates.

"Nothing," he mumbles. "I'm fine."

"No you're not," Oliver responds firmly. "What is it?"

Harry bites his bottom lip hard to keep it from shaking.

"Harry…" Oliver walks into the flat and pushes the door closed behind him. He slips his arms around Harry's trembling frame and pulls him into his chest. "Talk to me."

Harry drops his bag to the floor and settles into Oliver's strong arms, closing his eyes and burying his face into his shoulder. Some of his fear eases as he allows Oliver to comfort him.

"Is it Malfoy?" Oliver asks quietly.

Harry smiles into his jumper. "No, it has nothing to do with him."

"Damn," Oliver replies teasingly.

Harry chuckles and pulls back, looking up into Oliver's kind face. He feels a stab of affection for his ex as he stares into those familiar brown eyes. "Thank you," he says sincerely.

Oliver smiles softly and tucks a lock of raven hair behind Harry's ear. "For what?"

Harry carefully takes a step back out of Oliver's arms. "For making me feel less lonely."

Oliver smiles and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Are you going to tell me what all the tears are for?"

Harry picks up his bag and throws it back over his shoulder. "I…" Harry stops and licks his lips. "I actually don't want to say it out loud. Do you think… would you come with me to St Mungos?"

Oliver's smile instantly fades at Harry's words. "Of course. Are you going there now?"

Harry nods and hefts his bag up a little higher on his shoulder.

"Let me take that for you," Oliver offers, reaching for the backpack.

"I'm not an invalid," Harry responds with a roll of his eyes.

Oliver smiles and places his hand into Harry's. "Alright tough guy, let's go."

Harry takes courage from Oliver's presence as they step into the hall and Apparate directly to the hospital.

**. . . .**

"Wow being a celebrity certainly has its advantages." Oliver lets loose a low whistle as he takes in Harry's private room at St Mungo's.

Harry snorts in response as he unpacks his things. He gently places his prized frame near the bed, his fingers lingering on it for a moment.

"So…" Oliver says, watching. "Where's Malfoy? Shouldn't he be here with you?"

Harry perches on the edge of his hospital bed and leans back on his hands. "He's probably at work, and no, he should not be here."

Oliver carefully sits beside him, watching harried medical staff pass by the open doorway every few seconds. "Aren't you…together?"

Harry sighs and swings his feet a few inches above the worn linoleum floor. "Not technically, no." He smiles, trying to push away any lingering doubts, and looks over at the photograph frame. "Not yet."

Oliver nods, not really understanding but not really wanting to hear any more on the subject. "So are you going to tell me why you're here, and why they've signed you in for a few days?"

Harry takes a deep breath and releases it in one big whoosh. "I've been poisoned."

Oliver's lips part in shock as he turns to face him. "What? By who?"

Harry shrugs, watching his feet swinging beneath him. "Just some creep I caught awhile back. He stuck a dagger in my leg but I didn't think anything of it at the time."

Oliver frowns. "I don't remember that..."

"Probably because I got hit by a car that same day and suddenly a little dagger wound wasn't worth mentioning," Harry replies dryly.

"But…what does this mean?" Oliver demands worriedly. "Can they…cure you?"

Harry's feet slow to a stop, dangling in mid-air. "I don't know. They won't know until tomorrow."

"Harry…" Oliver chokes.

Harry quickly stands and turns to face him. "Please don't," he pleads. "You can't fall apart on me, I'm sorry but I can't handle it right now. I'm barely keeping it together myself."

He turns and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry for bringing you here," he utters disconsolately. "I shouldn't have asked you. It's just… you showed up when I was feeling lonely and… scared."

Oliver stands and immediately embraces the smaller boy, lightly pressing Harry's head down onto his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving you here alone."

Harry sighs and closes his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says quietly.

"For what?"

"For hurting you."

Oliver strokes Harry's dark hair and rocks him. "It's alright, I hurt you as well."

Harry smiles sadly. "What a mess."

Oliver smiles in kind and closes his eyes. "Just make sure he takes care of you."

Harry pulls away and looks up at him. "He will. He loves me."

"So do I," Oliver murmurs, eyes gazing deeply into Harry's emerald eyes.

The exaggerated clearing of a throat has Harry jumping guiltily away from his ex.

"Lavender," Harry greets with a relieved smile. "Hermione told me you worked here."

The slim brunette smiles in response, eyes twinkling at the red-faced pair. "Just thought I'd stop in to see how you are. Turns out you're just fine," she smirks.

Harry coughs and forces a smile. "Er... yeah, I'm alright. Any word on my test results yet?"

She shakes her head and leans against the doorframe. "Not yet, they're working round the clock for you though Harry."

Harry nods and sits back down on the bed.

"How are you?" she asks.

"I'm alright I guess," he shrugs noncommittally.

"I'm sorry about spilling the beans to Hermione Granger," Lavender says apologetically. "I just thought she knew."

"It's alright," Harry smiles. "I would've told her eventually." _Maybe_, he adds silently.

Lavender nods and straightens. "Well, I'd better get back to work. I'll see you later. If you need anything just ask, the staff here are really good."

"Thanks." Harry waves as she flashes another cheery smile at the pair of them before disappearing.

"So..." Oliver turns to face him and claps his hands together. "Are you up for a game of Exploding Snap?"

"I don't have any cards..."

Oliver withdraws a pack wrapped in cellophane from his pocket. "Snagged this from the gift shop downstairs," he says with a grin.

Harry laughs and draws his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged on the starched sheets.

Oliver sits across from him and Harry forgets - at least for a little while - where he is.

**. . . .**

Harry flops back onto his bed with a heavy sigh as the two medi-witches take their leave after running some chest scans and taking some more blood. He shivers in the thin white hospital pyjamas and decides to slip under the stiff blankets.

He sighs again and immediately begins to cough, his chest feeling more and more congested by the hour. He twists the blankets in his hands and tries not to think about it. He's beginning to regret asking Oliver to go home for lunch as he's missing the welcome distraction.

Harry rests his head on the thin pillow and closes his eyes. He tries to regulate his breathing, taking nice slow easy breaths, hoping to lull his body into sleep. Unfortunately his mind refuses to stop jumping frantically from one thought to the next, keeping any possibility of sleep or relaxation from coming.

Strangely, thoughts of his impending diagnosis are secondary to his thoughts of Draco. His heart is aching with the need to have the blond near him, to have those strong arms wrapped around him and Draco's soothing voice whispering words of comfort in his ear.

Harry feels as though with every passing minute he is betraying his lover more and more by keeping him in the dark. Harry didn't want to cause him unnecessary pain or worry, especially after everything he's already put him through.

Harry's musing is interrupted by a light knocking at his door. He looks up to see Hermione standing in the open doorway, a friendly smile on her face.

"Hi Harry, how are you?" she asks, walking into the room and pulling up a chair next to his bed.

"I'm alright," Harry replies indifferently as he sits up and folds his hands in his lap, pushing thoughts of Draco from his mind.

Hermione chews her lip, taking in the worry lines etched into Harry's troubled face.

Harry looks away from her probing gaze. "So how's Viktor?" he asks.

"He's great," Hermione replies promptly, a fond smile suddenly stretching her lips. "He's looking forward to the wedding almost as much as I am."

Harry's responding smile suddenly slides off his face as he realises that he may not be around for the wedding. He instantly searches for something else to say before doing something embarrassing like bursting into tears.

"Wanna play Exploding Snap?" he asks.

Hermione blinks in surprise at the abrupt change in topics but smiles and nods. "Sure."

Harry reaches for the discarded deck and begins to set up the game.

"So..." Hermione opens cautiously. "Will you know the results by tonight?"

"Probably," Harry nods, focusing his attention on the cards.

"Do you want me to stay?"

Harry sighs and looks up. "To be perfectly honest, no. I... I think I'd just like to be on my own."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asks with concern.

"Yes," Harry replies firmly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to tell Draco?" Hermione persists with a frown. "I hate the thought of you being alone..."

Harry returns to dealing out the cards. "I'll tell him when I'm ready," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Hermione leans back and holds her tongue, preventing herself from any more mother-henning. Harry clearly didn't think he needed it, but she knew better.

The two become engrossed in their game, and five rounds later, it's already time for the medi-witch to stop by for another check-up.

Hermione smiles as Lavender walks in as well, accompanying the older medi-witch.

"Hermione," the other girl greets with a smile. "Wondered when I'd be seeing you here. How are you feeling Harry?"

Harry sets their game aside and sits up. "Fine."

Lavender rolls her eyes and lifts her clipboard, making a note. "Martyr complex," she mutters.

Hermione snorts her agreement as Harry tries to ignore them as the medi-witch runs the glowing tip of her wand over his body.

"Your boyfriend is so hot Harry," Lavender comments wistfully as she watches the other witch and scrawls the results on her notepad. "I thought you two broke up though?"

Hermione turns to Harry. "What boyfriend?"

Harry flushes and keeps his eyes averted. "Er... Oliver was here. And yes we did break up, he just came along as a friend."

Lavender raises a brow. "A friend that you were five seconds away from snogging?"

"Miss Brown," the medi-witch barks with a frown. "Please save the gossip for when you're off duty."

Lavender shuts her mouth with a smirk and continues to write.

Harry can feel Hermione's weighted gaze on him as the medi-witch finishes her scans.

"Thankyou Mr Potter," the senior witch says crisply, lowering her wand. "Someone will be by later to take some more samples."

"See ya later," Lavender says, finishing her notes.

Hermione waits for the two to leave before turning on her friend.

"Snogging?" she immediately repeats, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry fixes her with an irritated glare, his temper suddenly flaring. "Believe me that was all on Oliver's side, and let me remind you that you are not my mother, that I don't have to tell you every little detail of my life, and that I'm too in love with Draco to ever be with anyone else ever again - regardless of whether he wants to be with me or not!" He stops, breathing hard for a moment. "Besides, there are more important things going on at the moment," he adds meaningfully.

Hermione flushes, thoroughly chastised. "You're right. Of course you're right Harry. Sorry."

Harry's expression softens slightly. "It's alright." He pauses and swallows. "I think I just want to be on my own right now."

Hermione uncrosses her arms, her wide brown eyes turning glassy under the fluorescent lighting.

Harry looks down at his clasped hands. "Please don't cry," he begs quietly. "I'll talk to you later okay?"

"Okay." Hermione nods, trying to reign in her emotions, for Harry's sake. "Please let me know as soon as you find out anything. Do you need anything before I go?'

Harry shakes his head and raises deep green eyes to her face. "No, I'm fine. I think I'll just have a little nap. I'm quite tired actually," he lies.

Hermione nods and backs away. Without uttering another word, she gives a final hesitant smile and disappears out the door.

Harry exhales shakily and lies back down on his bed. He closes his eyes and two tears leak out and trail down his heated cheeks.

He makes a mental note to ask for a sleeping potion the next time one of the nurses walks by.

**. . . .**

Harry wakes from a hazy dream and opens his eyes, blinking blearily up at the strange figures in his room.

"Mr Potter?"

Harry frowns and reaches for his glasses. Suddenly the harsh white room comes into perfect clarity, along with two male healers who are looking down at him. Harry absently notices that the sky outside his window has turned to a deep purple. That sleeping potion had worked its magic and knocked him out for quite a few hours.

"We have your results…"

With his heart in his throat, Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position. He looks up at the healer, waiting for his fate, feeling sick to his stomach…

**. . . .**

Oliver pauses by the gift shop on the ground floor of St Mungos, eyeing the bright bouquets of flowers and wondering if it would be considered inappropriate for him to buy his ex some flowers. He shakes his head and walks past.

As much as he secretly wants Harry to come back to him, he knows it's no use. Harry and Malfoy's history is too much for him to overcome, their love so entwined with one another that Oliver is wise enough to leave with his dignity still intact. Mostly.

That didn't stop him from enjoying the moment earlier when he almost kissed those full lush lips again.

Oliver waits behind an older gentleman at the front desk, hoping he isn't too late for visiting hours.

"Hey Oliver!"

Oliver turns to see that female friend of Harry's jogging towards him.

"Would you come with me?" Lavender asks breathlessly, stopping beside him and placing a hand on his arm.

"Is something wrong with Harry?" he immediately asks in concern as he follows her down the long corridor to the waiting lift.

"I'll let the Healers speak to you about it," she answers vaguely.

Oliver frowns as he waits for the lift to stop at level three. The doors ping open and he hurries his steps towards Harry's hospital room. The room is empty except for one Healer dressed in white robes who is flicking through some paperwork.

"Healer Pascal?" Lavender interrupts quietly. "I have a friend of Harry Potters here."

Healer Pascal lifts his head and nods. "Come in."

Lavender closes the door behind them and stands just inside the room, worrying her bottom lip.

"Hi I'm Oliver Wood," Oliver introduces himself briefly. "What's going on? Where's Harry?"

Healer Pascal perches on the edge of Harry's bed, clipboard resting on his knee.

"Mr Potter has left St Mungos," he explains quietly. "He received some rather... distressing news and has left. He has not been formally discharged."

Oliver reaches for the small plastic chair, leaning his weight on the back of it for support.

"You mean he's run away?" Oliver asks weakly.

"Yes," Healer Pascal confirms with a nod. "We left him alone in his room and when we returned, he was gone. He is not required to remain here but we do have more tests to run and treatments to try."

Oliver swallows, bracing himself. "This distressing news, is it... Is the poison killing him?"

Healer Pascal's eyes darken with sorrow. "I'm afraid so."

Oliver slumps into the chair and puts his head into his hands. "How long does he have?"

"It's hard to say," the Healer sighs, shifting on the bed. "This venom is quite slow acting and we really need to run some more tests-"

"Ballpark figure?" Oliver asks, looking up at him through the hanging strands of his light brown fringe.

"Maybe a month."

Oliver closes his eyes and Lavender covers her mouth in shock behind him. 

Oliver finally exhales and sits up, fixing the healer with a determined stare. "Harry needs to return to the hospital doesn't he?"

Healer Pascal stands. "Yes, we won't be able to save him but we can hopefully extend his life and make the time he has left less painful."

Oliver nods and pushes to his feet. "Leave it to me."

"Thankyou Mr Wood."

Oliver turns and strides from the room, sparing a quick glance at Lavender before entering the corridor and heading for the exit.

The Healer pats Lavender sympathetically on the shoulder before leaving her alone in the quiet room.

Lavender sniffs and straightens her shoulders, preparing to return to her rounds. She tries not to think about a world without Harry Potter in it as she steps out into the hall.

**. . . .**

Harry sits on the floor of his bedroom, eyes red with the continuous flow of tears spilling over and running carelessly down his cheeks.

He doesn't even swat them away because there will just be more to replace them. They fall with little splatters onto his thighs, hands and onto the small pewter box he's clutching with trembling fingers.

Harry hiccoughs, too tired and drained to sob anymore. He feels empty and soulless, stuck in a state of sorrow that is daunting and seemingly impossible to claw out of.

Harry closes his eyes and leans back against his bed. After killing Voldemort, he'd thought his life was going to be fairly safe.

If only he hadn't wanted to be an Auror. If only he hadn't taken on that case. If only he hadn't gone alone. If only he'd been more careful. If only...

A sob slips past his lips as he remembers Draco's presence there that day.

How is he going to tell him? How is he going to tell Hermione or Ron? How long before the papers get wind of the Boy-Who-Is-Dying?

Harry allows his head to fall back onto the mattress, keeping his eyes shut.

If he tells Draco now, the blond may only do or say things out of pity, not out of the deep-seated desire to be together.

Harry lifts his head only to bury it in his knees as another sob wrenches itself from his aching chest.

_'I'm dying... I'm dying... I'm dying...'_

Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, that mantra is trying to make itself be heard and dwelled upon, but he isn't ready. Not yet. It's too much to contemplate; this enemy in which he has no defence against.

Harry opens watery emerald eyes and rests his chin on his knees.

He stares unblinkingly at the wall across from him, unsure of what to do next. How does one spend the last few weeks of his life?

Harry jumps as loud and demanding pounding suddenly starts up on his front door.

He freezes, eyes wide. Nobody knows he's here, nobody knows about his illness... except Hermione and Oliver. And that is definitely not Hermione banging on his door.

Harry reluctantly struggles to his feet and places the pewter box onto the bed before slowly walking out into the kitchen area.

The banging is infinitely louder. Harry swallows, staring at the door, praying that Oliver will go away. He didn't want to see anyone.

"Harry, if you don't open this door I swear I'll fucking break it down!"

Harry feels the blood drain from his face as he sways on his feet. "Draco..." he whispers, feeling as though all the air in his lungs has suddenly been sucked out.

"Harry!"

Harry blinks and suddenly the air comes rushing back. Without even being aware of it, he begins to move forward, slowly placing one foot in front of the other as he is drawn towards the relentless banging.

He stops before the door and unlocks the heavy steel bolt before opening the door with a surprisingly steady hand.

The door swings open, revealing a flushed and panting Draco Malfoy with one hand in the air, mid-knock.

They stare at one another for a split second, grey eyes glowing with an intense fierceness; drinking Harry in, devouring him.

With a strangled cry Draco dashes forward and envelops Harry in his arms.

Harry feels his knees give but Draco's strong embrace keeps him from falling. Without a second thought, Harry buries his face in Draco's shoulder, hands fisting in the warm jumper, the familiar scent of vanilla and cologne pervading his senses.

Harry bites his tongue - hard, trying to clamp down on the threatening sobs that are waiting to explode with the driving force of his sorrow.

"W-what are you doing here?" he chokes out, lips forming the words against the warm skin of Draco's neck.

The Slytherin's arms tighten further. "Why didn't you tell me Harry? Why didn't you tell me you were... are..." He stops and shakes his head, eyes clenched shut against the pain.

"I only just found out-"

"Bullshit," Draco spits angrily, pulling back slightly to look at Harry's downturned face. "You knew this was a possibility and you didn't tell me. I had to hear it from your ex-boyfriend, who apparently is more important to you than I am!"

Harry shakes his head and forces red-rimmed eyes to Draco's pale and drawn face. "No, it's not like that, he just happened to be here..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Draco repeats again, anger morphing into despair. "I deserve to know when the man I'm in love with is in danger of dying!"

Draco's voice breaks on the last word and Harry drops his gaze. It's suddenly too much; too hard, too accusing and too painful. Harry vainly tries to escape the steel-like grip.

"No." Draco shakes him once before drawing him back in to his body and wrapping his arms around him securely. "Don't shut me out, I'm not going to let you. I love you, you stupid idiot."

Harry stops resisting, the fight gone from his exhausted body as he looks up at Draco's breathtakingly handsome face. Even etched with worry and fear, he is still perfect.

Giving in, Harry slumps forward and rests his cheek on the taller man's shoulder, arms hanging limply at his sides.

"Talk to me love," Draco says softly. "Please."

Harry closes his eyes as they fill with tears. "I... I don't want your pity. I don't want you to tell me things that aren't true."

Draco frowns as he gently caresses Harry's thick dark hair. "Like what?" he asks in confusion.

Harry swallows, keeping his eyes closed. "That you want to be with me even if you don't."

Draco's hand stills in the silky raven hair. "Of course I want to be with you, how could you ever think otherwise?"

Harry releases a shuddered breath and, unable to resist any longer, hesitantly slips his arms around Draco's slim waist. "You wanted to wait a week before getting back together," he replies, suddenly embarrassed by his insecurity.

Draco pulls back and tilts Harry's chin up with his fingers. "I wasn't lying Harry, I really did need a week to get some things in order before lavishing all of my attention on you."

Harry sees the truth in his penetrating gaze and bites his lip. "Oh..."

"Yes oh," Draco gently admonishes.

Harry begins to smile before reality comes crashing back down on him again. He buries his face into the side of Draco's neck and clenches his jaw, desperately trying to keep down the threatening sobs.

Draco's arms tighten around him as the blond detects his trembling.

Neither one of them knows quite what to say as hot tears leak out the corners of Harry's closed eyes in the heavy silence.

Draco swallows past the lump in his throat. "They want you back at the hospital."

"What for?" Harry replies despondently.

Draco pulls back and takes both of Harry's hands in his own, gazing into melancholy green eyes. "They can still help you. The Healers, they have treatments to try and there are potions you need to take..."

Harry bites his lip and looks away.

"Don't lose hope Harry," Draco commands quietly, squeezing the brunette's warm hands in his own.

Draco looks down with a quizzical frown, feeling cool hard metal on Harry's finger. His lips part in surprise as he recognizes the ring he bought for his lover years ago.

He looks back up to meet Harry's somewhat sheepish gaze.

"I love you too, you stupid idiot," Harry explains with a sad smile.

Draco feels as though his heart has been wrenched in his chest and he instantly draws Harry back to him. "I'm not going to lose you again Harry," he vows fervently, clutching onto him tightly.

Harry can't help but smile; feeling content and oh so loved. Surrounded by Draco's warmth and steady strength he once again feels safe. He is where he is meant to be. He looks up at Draco with love and adoration shining in his eyes.

Draco slowly lowers his head and gently presses his lips to Harry's sweet mouth.

Harry almost moans into the kiss. If he felt complete before, it was now magnified a thousand times over. The heat and passion continually missing from his relationship with Oliver is now blatantly obvious and not just a figment of his imagination.

The taste, the feel, the smell - everything is so familiar and so right. It is perfection, _they_ are perfection, and he is home.

Draco pulls away and opens soft grey eyes. "Come on Harry," he says quietly. "Let's get you back."

Harry smiles tenderly and links his left hand with Draco's, his ring pressing into the blond's warm skin. "Okay."


	12. Took So Long Just to Feel Alright

_**Chapter Twelve: Took So Long Just to Feel Alright**_

Harry and Draco are sitting on the small hospital bed together, Harry's head lying contentedly on Draco's shoulder, their hands linked together and resting atop Harry's thigh.

Harry stares at their joined hands, quiet piano music washing over him from the wizarding radio on the bedside table as he gazes at the ring just visible in between their entwined fingers.

He feels as though nothing else matters at this point in time but him and Draco. Together. As it is meant to be.

Harry smiles softly to himself as he thinks about how sure he feels about this man. They had been together for a relatively short amount of time before being torn apart, and yet, he still feels as strongly now for Draco Malfoy as he did their last night together nearly two years ago. It's as though no time has passed.

Draco places a soft kiss to the top of Harry's head then, causing the tired Gryffindor to smile.

It scares him how much he loves him in that moment. Loves him and needs him.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me," Draco utters softly.

Harry gives his hand a squeeze. "I was just thinking the same thing about you."

A tender smile graces Draco's face, an expression solely for Harry and Harry's eyes alone.

"I missed you so much..." Draco continues, quietly baring his soul between the white sterile walls of the hospital room. "It was tearing me apart wondering where you were, if you had been captured by Voldemort and were being tortured, or if you were even still alive at all. If not for the thought of seeing you again, I think I would've lost my mind."

Harry's vision blurs as his eyes fill with tears, listening to his lover's anguished words.

Draco closes his eyes. "But you had to go on believing that I was dead. I don't know how..." He stops and exhales shakily. "I don't know how you did it Harry."

The tears silently fall from Harry's eyes as he continues to gaze at their joined hands. "It wasn't easy," he admits softly. "There were times when I didn't think I could go on for another day with that hollow feeling gnawing away inside of me. It never completely went away but it did lessen, slowly."

Draco nods, his cheek still resting atop Harry's dark hair. "As much as it kills me to think about it, I'm glad you had Oliver."

Harry smiles a little through his tears. "He saved me..." he says honestly.

"And I am indebted to him for it," Draco says intently. "And for telling me that you were in trouble tonight."

"He's a selfless man," Harry comments. "Most of the time," he adds as an afterthought.

Draco smiles and opens his eyes. "He said he owed me, after letting him know when you were in the hospital after the car accident."

"What would you have done if I had wanted to stay with him?" Harry asks curiously.

"I would have never given up," Draco replies instantly, his left arm tightening around Harry's shoulders. "I'm not as selfless as he is."

Harry grins. "You are possessive and hopelessly jealous and spoiled and arrogant... and Merlin help me but I love everything about you. I guess opposites attract."

Draco snorts softly through his nose, ruffling Harry's raven locks. "And you are too altruistic for your own good, which can be infuriating at times, but I suppose I can put up with it. For the great sex."

Harry laughs and raises his head to look his lover in the eye. "We should've spent tonight at my place before coming back."

Draco swallows and brushes Harry's wayward fringe back out of his eyes. "Don't tempt me Potter," he says. "I might have to ravish you right here."

Harry's expression suddenly turns serious. "Dray, I want you to know that... that I haven't slept with anyone since you."

Draco's forehead creases in confusion as he stares down at Harry's earnest expression. "What do you mean?"

"Oliver and I never... went that far."

Draco stares at him a moment before finding his voice. "Because of me?"

Harry nods, knowing this information will help lessen Draco's tension over his relationship with Oliver.

Draco closes his eyes briefly before pulling Harry back against his body and placing a kiss to his forehead.

"I know it shouldn't matter, but I'm loathed to admit my selfish side is rejoicing right now."

Harry smiles and happily tucks his head back in to Draco's shoulder.

"What's taking them so long?" Draco mutters after a few minutes of silence.

Harry sighs and opens his eyes to glance at the closed door to his private room. His stomach clenches as their conversation replays in his mind. Soon it will be Draco who has to live with Harry's death. How will he cope?

"What's wrong?" Draco asks, sensing Harry's distress.

Harry doesn't know how to say what he's feeling without sounding melodramatic. "Soon you'll have to learn how to live without me," he finally replies.

Draco's sharply indrawn breath causes Harry to wince.

"That's not going to happen," Draco says stiffly.

Harry holds his tongue, letting the blond hold onto his hope, no matter how futile.

The door opens then and Healer Pascal walks in.

Harry sits up as Draco slips off the bed to stand back out of the way.

Harry instantly misses the weight of Draco's hand in his.

"Mr Potter." The Healer pulls a chair up to the side of the bed and takes a seat. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright." Harry shrugs. "Not coughing as much."

"Hmm..." The Healer nods and removes his wand. "Turn your head please."

Harry turns to the right, catching and holding Draco's gaze. Healer Pascal touches the tip of his wand to Harry's throat and holds it there a moment, murmuring under his breath.

Harry tries to breathe normally while he waits.

The wand is finally removed and Harry turns back towards his Healer.

The older wizard has a type of quick quotes quill busily scratching away on a clipboard of lined parchment as he mutters instructions.

The quill stops moving, quivering in mid-air, waiting for its next command.

The Healer looks up as he pockets his wand. "We've run some blood tests," he says. "And you appear to have an abnormally large amount of antibodies in your system."

"Er... meaning?" Harry asks uncomprehendingly.

"Well, antibodies exist in your immune system to help identify and then neutralize foreign bodies, such as poison. Basically their job is to attack infected cells."

Harry nods, absorbing every word. "So, it's my body's natural reaction to produce these because of the poison?"

Healer Pascal nods in confirmation. "Yes, but the puzzling thing in your case is your system seems to be recognizing the foreign material and attacking at a much faster rate than could ever be expected. Every human possesses memory cells that retain knowledge of past threats so that they can attack stronger and faster the next time they present themselves. Mr Potter, have you ever been poisoned before?"

Harry almost laughs aloud. "Er no," he answers.

"Are you saying that Harry's body recognizes this poison?" Draco asks.

"Exactly," the Healer nods, turning to the intent blond.

"So... is his body winning?"

Healer Pascal scratches his cheek as he contemplates the question. "We don't know for certain yet but, it's a possibility."

Harry gapes at him. How can the man say that with such nonchalance? As though he isn't delivering a possible reprieve on his life?

Harry startles as a hand is suddenly slipped into his and he looks up to see Draco's warm eyes. To anyone else the Slytherin would look cold and detached, but Harry could see the discernible twinkle hidden in the steel grey eyes.

He smiles gratefully up at him before turning his attention back to the Healer.

"When will you know?"

"It won't be definite for awhile but we should have an indication very shortly," he replies. "We just need to compare blood samples."

Harry can hardly believe what he's hearing. Hope is being offered to him on a silver platter but he suddenly finds that he's too afraid to reach out for it.

He squeezes Draco's hand, the reassuring weight of it grounding him.

"When you say my body recognizes the poison, does that mean I've been exposed to it before?" Harry asks.

"Almost certainly, if that is indeed what is happening. This particular type of venom is animal based, like that of the Box Jellyfish or Funnel-web Spider, though because of the slow acting aspect, we believe that it is more likely to be snake derived. As we can't seem to pinpoint the actual species that the poison has come from, using an anti-venom would be impossible. The poison has been in your system too long for that to be of any use now anyway."

"Could it be Basilisk venom?" Harry suddenly interjects.

Healer Pascal frowns. "Basilisk venom is extraordinarily rare and very hard to come by. Why do you ask?"

Harry smiles wryly. "Because I was bitten by a Basilisk once."

The Healer rises to his feet. "And you survived, how?"

"Luckily I had a Phoenix on hand that cared enough to lend me some of its tears."

The Healer quickly has his enchanted quill take some more notes as he thinks aloud.

"So the tears diluted the poison, healed the infected cells but the B cells retained the memory of that particular antigen... It's like a naturally occurring antivenin."

Harry glances at Draco with raised brows as the doctor's tone borders on excited. Draco has a concentrated look on his face as he watches the Healer pace back and forth, obviously trying to understand his technical ramblings.

"Uh... so do you think it could be Basilisk venom?" Harry finally asks over top of him.

Healer Pascal stops and turns to him, the sound of his blue quill continues to scratch away in the background.

"It's a possibility my boy," he replies with a smile. "It would make sense. I'll return to the lab with this information, it should give us some direction. We just need to know if the infected cells are increasing or decreasing at this point in time, that will give us the answer."

Harry swallows and nods in understanding.

"So if it is Basilisk venom, and the infected cells are decreasing, does that mean that Harry's going to be alright?" Draco asks carefully.

Healer Pascal smiles and collects his quill and clipboard before turning to answer. "Yes, then I would say that Harry Potter is the luckiest young man I have ever met."

Draco gives a brief nod in acknowledgment.

"Aren't you glad you came back now?" the Healer asks with a wink as he turns towards Harry.

Harry smiles sheepishly. "Yeah, thanks."

Healer Pascal nods and excuses himself, promising to return as soon as possible.

The door shuts behind him, leaving the two boys alone.

"Wow..." Harry breathes out in shock. "I was preparing myself for-" He stops as he looks up to see tears silently coursing down Draco's cheeks.

Harry stands and immediately wraps his arms around his lover from behind, laying his cheek against his back. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Draco snorts in amusement and wipes at his eyes. "For what?"

"For making you cry."

Draco turns in Harry's arms to face him. He gently strokes one finger down Harry's pale cheek. "Life with you is anything but dull Potter," he says.

Harry can't help but smile. "I would kill for a dull life."

Draco chuckles, grey eyes glowing with affection.

Harry catches the last tear hanging from Draco's lashes on his finger then slowly slides his hand across to cup his cheek in his palm. He gently smoothes his thumb over Draco's parted lips.

Draco closes his eyes, leaning into the touch.

Harry slides his hand back behind Draco's neck and directs those soft pink lips down to meet his.

Harry closes his eyes at the gentle pressing of lips, hesitantly tasting and reacquainting. He finally parts his lips with a soft moan of long awaited pleasure as Draco deepens the kiss, tilting his head to one side.

Draco's arms slowly slide around his torso, pulling him flush up against his body.

Harry is unable to stifle the moan at the press of Draco's firm body against his own.

A coil of desire explodes in Draco's gut at Harry's noises of pleasure. Their tongues stroking heatedly and not an inch of space between their aroused bodies.

Draco kisses his way down Harry's throat as the panting brunette tilts his head back, encouraging the action, shivers of excitement tingling down his spine.

Draco slides his hands down to cup Harry's delicious backside as he continues to kiss and suckle.

"Draco..." Harry gasps breathlessly. He lifts his right leg to hook it behind Draco, pulling their groins together.

Draco emits a low growl of need as he thrusts once against his lover and returns to ravaging that sweet mouth.

Harry reluctantly tears his mouth away, panting harshly. "We can't do this here..."

Draco leans his forehead against Harry's with closed eyes, looking just as undone. "Merlin I want you so badly..."

Harry closes eyes against the fresh rush of arousal those words produce.

"It's been too long..." Draco says, voice breaking with pain and longing.

"I know," Harry agrees, nodding, then promptly breaks out into a coughing fit.

"Harry..." Draco quickly rubs his lover's back in concern.

Harry holds up his hand to let him know he's alright.

"Sorry," Draco apologizes. "That was my fault, I shouldn't be pushing you when you're still not well."

"It's alright," Harry replies hoarsely. "I started it."

Draco chuckles and draws Harry back in to him to hold him closely. The blond frowns when he feels Harry's trembling a few minutes later.

"Harry?" he says worriedly. "Harry love, are you alright?"

Harry shakes his head and tightens his arms around Draco.

"I don't want to die."

Draco feels his heart stop at Harry's quietly uttered admission. He pulls back and takes Harry by the shoulders, staring intently into those frightened green eyes.

"Listen to me Harry," he speaks firmly. "You are not going to die. This isn't the first time we've faced losing each other, we've done it before and we'll do it again. You are too strong and too fucking lucky to ever die before your time. We are going to be together until we're old old wizards with walking sticks and long beards.

And we're going to get married you and I, Potter. Now isn't that worth living for?"

Harry produces a small watery smile and nods.

"That's right," Draco continues fiercely. "I love you too damn much to lose you, and I'm a Malfoy, I always get what I want. I fucking came back from the dead for you Harry Potter."

Harry laughs and wraps his arms around him again. "I love you," he whispers.

Draco's smirk turns into a warm smile at Harry's words and he kisses the top of his head while tightening his hold on his precious Gryffindor.

*. *. *. *

"Excuse me, Mr Potter? Mr Potter?"

Harry frowns and shifts in bed. The arm flung around his middle tightens at the movement and Harry slowly cracks open one eye.

He's lying on the hospital bed, on top of the covers, with Draco spooned up behind him.

Harry blinks at the unfamiliar Healer standing in the doorway, looking apologetic for interrupting them.

"Sorry Mr Potter but Healer Pascal needs to speak with you straight away."

Harry is immediately wide awake. He carefully disentangles himself from his dozing lover and quietly follows the Healer out the door, shutting it softly behind him. He decides to let Draco sleep while he faces the music alone, though he may pay dearly for it when the protective Slytherin awakens.

Harry swallows in trepidation as he walks beside the young Healer through the corridor.

"Where are we going?" he finally asks.

"To Healer Pascal's office."

"Oh." Harry feels his palms beginning to sweat as his pulse races. Did the Healer's office mean good news or bad?

The young Healer knocks at a door to their left before pushing the door open.

"Mr Potter's here sir."

Healer Pascal looks up and flashes Harry a quick smile. "Ah come in Mr Potter, have a seat."

Harry does as he is told while his companion takes his leave, shutting the door behind him.

"Where's Mr Malfoy?" Healer Pascal inquires, closing the thin folder on his desk.

"Sleeping," Harry answers. "I didn't want to disturb him."

The Healer nods in understanding. "Now, you probably want to know what we've found."

Harry nods, feeling slightly dizzy.

"We've compared the two blood samples and your antibodies are holding steady. The infected cells are decreasing."

Harry's dizziness threatens to overwhelm him and he can hear a strange ringing in his ears.

Healer Pascal smiles. "We'll need you to remain at St Mungos for awhile as your immune system is extremely weak at the moment and easily compromised. This is probably why you picked up the flu so easily."

Harry barely hears the Healer's explanation. "So... are you saying that I'm... I'm going to..." Harry stops, unable to get the question out.

The Healer smiles in understanding. "Yes Harry, we think you're going to survive."

Harry exhales and clasps his clammy hands together in his lap.

"Congratulations Harry."

Harry smiles shakily then suddenly jumps to his feet, wanting to rush back to give Draco the good news.

Unfortunately, in his current condition, the moment he stands all the blood rushes to his head and he promptly passes out.

*. *. *. *

Draco groans and turns over, his hand absently searching out for the warm body that should be beside him.

Feeling only cold sheets, Draco sits bolt upright and looks around. The room is silent and empty.

He swings his legs over the side of the bed and is at the door in less than three strides. He wrenches it open and steps out into the congested hall.

His mind is imagining all sorts of horrible scenarios as he desperately scans the activity around him. He begins walking down the hall, looking for any familiar medical staff that may know where Harry is.

Draco suddenly freezes, the blood draining from his face, as he sees Harry being levitated towards him on a stretcher.

Draco races towards the nurse accompanying his prone lover.

"Is he dead?" the distraught blond asks as soon as he's at Harry's side.

"No," the nurse replies in surprise. "He's just fainted."

"Oh thank Merlin," Draco says under his breath.

He follows them all the way back to Harry's private room, taking in Harry's too pale complexion with concern.

The nurse levitates Harry over to his bed and asks if Draco can watch over him for awhile.

"Of course," he replies impatiently, then asks, "why did he faint?"

"Apparently he was in Healer Pascal's office when he suddenly passed out in the middle of their conversation."

"Why? Did it have something to do with what the Healer told him?" Draco asks sharply.

The nurse shrugs. "I wasn't there."

Draco turns his back on the useless woman and she leaves the room with a roll of her eyes.

He sits on the edge of the bed and takes up Harry's hand, holding it to his chest.

"Harry?" he says hesitantly, staring down at his still lover. "Wake up love."

Draco blinks back tears as he can't help but think that Harry's pale complexion makes him appear as though dead, his hand cold and limp in Draco's hand.

A single tear falls from grey eyes and drops onto their clasped hands.

"Wake up Harry," Draco pleads quietly. "If you don't have much time left, I want to take you away from here, somewhere beautiful and peaceful..."

Draco touches Harry's cheek and Harry lets out a small sigh, lips curving up into a smile.

Draco squeezes Harry's hand, relieved to see some colour returning to his love's face.

Harry sighs again and slowly opens deep emerald eyes. He smiles sleepily up at Draco.

"Ah there is my Romeo," he observes lightly.

Draco swallows past the lump in his throat. Harry's words bringing back sweet memories of their time together in the tower; quoting Romeo and Juliet.

"Why are you crying?" Harry suddenly frowns and makes to sit up.

Draco holds him down firmly. "You fainted Harry, just lie still."

Harry's right hand is still tightly encased in Draco's and the brunette gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"How do you feel?" Draco asks.

Harry's frown deepens at the sadness etched on Draco's handsome face. "I'm fine. Now tell me why you're so upset? You should be happy."

"Happy?" Draco echoes incredulously.

Harry smiles and reaches out to stroke his other hand through soft silvery strands of blond hair. "Yes happy you muppet. Or are you disappointed that you're stuck with me forever?"

Draco's lips part as he stares at Harry in silence.

"What do you mean?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Harry smiles, eyes sparkling with joy and life. "The Healer thinks I'm going to be alright."

Draco stares, Harry's words echoing in his head.

"Dray?" Harry calls in amusement.

Draco blinks before suddenly pulling Harry up into a fierce embrace. He crushes Harry in his arms for a moment before pulling back and staring into Harry's amused eyes.

"How sure is he?" Draco demands. "Is it just a chance or are they saying one hundred percent...?"

Harry places a light kiss on Draco's lips with a smile. "He said the infected cells are decreasing," he answers calmly.

Draco breathes out in relief. "Merlin Harry, I... Shit... You don't know how scared I was."

"Breathe Draco," Harry says with a gentle smile. "You don't want to pass out now do you?"

Draco smirks, some of his colour returning. "Only Gryffindors pull pathetic stunts like that."

Harry lays his head against Draco's chest and listens to his lover's heart rate slow and his erratic breathing begin to calm.

Draco smoothes Harry's hair with one hand, inhaling his partner's unique scent with reverence.

"I still can't quite believe you're going to be alright," Draco says in quiet amazement. "I'm almost scared to really believe it."

"I know," Harry says in agreement. "I don't want to think about if they're wrong or if I take a turn for the worse."

"Don't you dare," Draco warns as though it's up to Harry.

Harry grins and closes his eyes. "Yes sir."

Harry yawns loudly then, coming down off his high and suddenly feeling exhausted.

Draco glances down at his tired lover and gently lays him out on the soft bed, pulling the blankets up around his small form.

Harry opens his eyes a crack. "You won't leave will you?"

Draco smiles down at him and touches his cheek. "Never."

Harry smiles, reassured, and closes his eyes again.


	13. Epilogue: Remeber How to Put Back

Epilogue: Remember How to Put Back the Light in My Eyes

Harry glances back over his shoulder and smiles as he locks eyes with Draco's familiar gaze. He momentarily forgets about the crowd of onlookers as he shares a private look with his lover before turning back to the ceremony at hand. Hermione is softly repeating the Minister's quiet words to her new husband.

Harry's smile widens as he listens, feeling slightly misty-eyed over the event, and not only because his best friend is getting married, but because not long ago he wasn't sure if he was still going to be around to attend the upcoming nuptials.

He quickly swallows and tries to force back the threatening tears. His life these past couple of months had been nothing short of a miracle. After a week of hospital bed rest and care, he had been released to go back to his own flat with six weeks of time off work to recover. Six weeks of blissful relaxation and - more importantly - time spent reconciling with Draco.

Draco had immediately moved into the flat to help Harry as he slowly recovered his strength, as well as just to be near him. It seemed the blond didn't want to let Harry out of his sight now that he finally had him back again.

There were long hours of simply holding each other with no words spoken. Harry could finally and properly revel in the act of having the love of his life back again. Alive and well. And his.

Harry releases a shuddery breath and turns to glance at the gorgeous blond once more, sitting tall and confident in his pressed black tux.

Draco's brow creases slightly in concern at Harry's moist eyes.

Harry forces a smile and a minute shake of the head shows Draco that he's alright. He blinks a few times to try to clear his vision and once again turns back to the happy couple.

"I do."

Harry claps and cheers along with everyone else gathered as Hermione and Viktor share a kiss, thus officially sealing their new partnership.

Ron is enthusiastically clapping and whistling next to Harry on the steps. The ceremony is being held in the botanic gardens of the Glastonbury Hotel, where the happy couple will be spending the next week 'honeymooning.'

The ceremony is being held in a beautiful white gazebo amidst the garden's lush vegetation. A small group of guests are seated opposite on wooden chairs draped with large silken ribbons.

Harry and Ron are standing up for Hermione, wearing black tuxedos with dark maroon ties and waist coats. The bride herself has never looked more beautiful; her wild hair is tamed into a cascade of shining curls beneath a filmy veil and her gown is simple but gorgeous; accentuating her slim waist and making her pale skin glow.

Harry takes a step back as the happy couple walk up the aisle as husband and wife, grinning at the family and friends who are now on their feet applauding wildly.

A warm hand quietly slips into Harry's as he stands watching. He turns in surprise to see that Draco has silently slipped into place beside him.

"You alright?" Draco asks with quiet concern, grey eyes absently following Hermione and Viktor.

Harry smiles, leaning against the tall blond. "Yeah, I'm fine. Getting sentimental in my old age."

"How dreadfully Gryffindor of you," Draco drawls, giving Harry's hand a squeeze.

Harry squeezes back and doesn't quite manage to stifle a yawn. He hadn't had such a full day in quite some time and he was already feeling the effects of the busy day after weeks of inactivity.

"I'm taking you back to our room," Draco states decisively.

"But…" Harry begins to protest but finds that he doesn't have the energy. He nods in acquiescence and drops his head onto Draco's shoulder, eyes instantly falling shut.

Draco allows a small smile of affection to break through before turning to Ron who has come up beside them. "I'm taking Harry back to the room. He's dead on his feet."

Ron nods, grinning in amusement at his best friend nearly passed out on Malfoy's shoulder. "I'll let Hermione know. She'll understand."

Draco nods once before Apparating the two of them away without another word.

"Still has the manners of a Slytherin," Ron grumbles under his breath as he shoves his hands into his trouser pockets and wanders down to the guests in search of his girlfriend.

Harry allows Draco to strip him of his fancy attire before gently settling him in between the soft expensive sheets of their overly large hotel bed.

Draco quickly undresses and slips in beside him on his side, lying face to face.

Harry's eyes flutter open and he smiles tiredly at Draco. "Thanks."

Draco smiles and brushes Harry's fringe back, his fingers lingering in the soft strands.

"I love you, you know."

Draco's gaze returns to Harry's fervent green eyes.

"I know," he replies.

"You came back to me," Harry whispers in wonderment. That thought had yet to cease to amaze him and fill him with gratitude on a daily basis. "I don't know what I did to deserve such a gift."

"I feel the same," Draco says emotionally. "I don't know what I did to deserve having you in my life..."

Harry's eyes drift shut as he smiles in response to Draco's heartfelt words.

"I'm not letting you go again," Draco promises, shuffling closer and linking their left hands together.

"Okay..." Harry mumbles, half asleep.

Draco chuckles and watches Harry sleep, not in the least bit tired himself.

"Maybe one day we'll get married here..." Draco muses aloud with a smirk.

"M'kay..." Harry replies into his pillow.

Draco snickers silently. "Are you saying you'll marry me Harry Potter?"

"Yes I'll marry you Draco Malfoy - now can we go to sleep?" Harry replies clearly.

Draco freezes. "Uh..."

Harry's eyes open a crack to look up at Draco's stricken expression.

Unable to help himself, Harry bursts into laughter and turns over onto his other side.

"Don't worry Malfoy, I won't hold you to it," he says in amusement.

Draco relaxes and spoons up behind his lover.

"I wasn't worried Potter. I promised you we would be married one day."

"You only promised because I was on my death bed," Harry returned sleepily.

"I don't break promises."

"Okay..." Harry grins, closing his eyes again.

"Go to sleep Potter."

Harry instantly feels himself begin to drift off, Draco's arm wrapped securely around his waist.

~ The End ~


End file.
